


And the World You Promised

by jesterlady



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur Pendragon Is King, Awesome Gwen, BAMF Merlin, Big Bang Challenge, Canon Het Relationship, Character Death Fix, Community: paperlegends, Destiny, Elemental Magic, Epic Bromance, Episode Related, F/M, Fix-It, Insanity, Magic, Male Friendship, Merlin Big Bang Challenge, Merlin is Court Sorcerer, Once and Future King, Original Character(s), POV Character of Color, POV Female Character, POV Male Character, POV Multiple, Season/Series 05, Series Finale, Series Spoilers, Swords & Sorcery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-06
Updated: 2013-08-06
Packaged: 2017-12-22 14:39:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 66,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/914382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jesterlady/pseuds/jesterlady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the battle of Camlann Arthur and Merlin must somehow come to terms with the ramifications of Merlin's secret in time to defeat Morgana and fulfill their destiny.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You're Alone, You're on Your Own

**Author's Note:**

> **Author's notes:** Written for the paperlegends Big Bang 2013. Thanks so much to Moon01234 who offered to beta this for me and really helped me think things through. Also to jennybliss for her artwork. It's so beautiful and perfect.  
>  Hopefully this fic will deliver what I felt the show didn't, an actual resolution to the problems that stopped Arthur and Merlin's destiny from being fulfilled, and usher in that Golden Era. My intent was to focus on Arthur and Merlin's friendship as well as Arthur and Gwen's marriage. I also missed Merlin/Gwen friendship and strove to showcase that here. This means there wasn't a lot of time for knights and so I feel bad Leon, Percival, and Gwaine get shafted a little bit here and there wasn't as much Gaius/Merlin interaction as I like in my Merlin stories.  
> Hopefully no one is annoyed by the many scenes where Merlin tells stories about the past, but I personally always wanted to just get other people's reactions to the history of the show, so I hope that doesn't bore you.
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** I don't own Merlin. Some lines are from the show. The title is from a song by Hillsong. All of the chapter titles are from the song King by Lauren Aquilina. There is an amazing Arthur fanvid on Youtube using this song by missjessieban and I highly recommend you check it out. http://youtu.be/BKsshZTU08A

There was a white hot spot of pain in his chest and it slammed into him every time he tried to draw breath. He was lost in a dark world and he did not know where to turn. Surely, there was some way, some thing, that he could grasp hold of, to find his way out. He was not one to lie down and die for nothing. He did feel a sense of peace, as if it would be okay for him to die, that he would not be failing his people or in his duty. Yet…yet there was a personal sense of not being done, of having someone to live for, some thing to accomplish. 

It was a hazy recollection and it floated beyond his reach in his new world of pain. But he wanted it, knew he needed it more than life itself. Slowly, he fought to find it and it revealed itself with painstaking sluggishness until he wanted to scream with his need for it. 

There was a flash of dark curls threaded around his fingers, something white bound around his arm, a great fear as…she was dragged from him and he was held back. The pictures became clear, a woman, dark and breathtaking, full of grace and warmth. She…she was his wife, his Queen, someone he’d lost too many times.

She beckoned to him with her memory and he felt as if he was rising, riding the pain instead of it smothering him. He sensed her love resting with him and then more memories started to come. His first horse, the day he began to train with the knights, his father’s rare smile of approval, the only glimpse he’d ever had of his mother, his knights joking around the fire, Guinevere’s dark eyes watching him from across their marriage bed, and Merlin’s idiotic grin whenever he did something he knew Arthur wouldn’t approve of.

Merlin. Merlin. Arthur’s eyes blinked open and the pain was still there, threatening to cut off his every breath, but there was…

"Merlin."

Merlin turned and rushed to him, all insolence gone in concern, which was, frankly, worrying to Arthur.

"How are you feeling?” Arthur struggled to sit up, but a lance of pain belied his attempt and Merlin chided him, bracing him with his arm. “Lie back, lie back."

Because Arthur didn’t appreciate being told what to do and because he’d rather think about anything than what was happening inside his own body he couldn’t help but ask the question that had been on his mind for hours before his recent bout of blackness.

"Where have you been?"

"It doesn't matter now," Merlin said quietly and Arthur didn’t know what to make of his tone.

So Arthur turned practical, needing to know the worst.

"My side."

"You're bleeding."

He let an exasperated snort fall from his lips. Exactly like Merlin to state the obvious and not understand the real question.

"That's all right, I thought I was dying."

But Merlin wasn’t going along with their usual post-battle-one-of-them-is-extremely-wounded-pretend-nothing-is-happening banter.

"I’m sorry. I thought I defied the prophecy. I thought I was in time."

Arthur knew that he was in a serious amount of pain, but Merlin was really talking some extreme nonsense this time.

"What are you talking about?"

"I defeated the Saxons, the dragon, and…yet I knew it was Mordred I must stop."

Perhaps everything had been switched around and it was Merlin with the very painful wound that made everyone sound like they were talking crazy.

"The person who defeated them was the sorcerer."

"It was me."

Arthur was getting angry now, why was Merlin doing this? Did he think it was some kind of distraction from the pain? Because it really wasn’t.

"Don't be ridiculous. That's stupid, why would you say that?"

"I'm a sorcerer…I have magic. And I use it for you, Arthur. Only for you."

Arthur stared at him, the first glimmerings of belief coming into his head, but he didn’t want to believe. Didn’t want to know his best friend had been lying to him for ten years, was potentially the very evil he had been taught to fear all his life. Yet, Merlin was shaking all over, his eyes filled with unshed tears, his voice cracking. Arthur hated it when that happened.

He tried one more time. 

"Merlin, you are not a sorcerer, I would know."

He didn’t know if he was trying to convince Merlin or himself.

"Look, here,” Merlin said and shifted his weight, turning to the fire. 

He stretched out his hand and whispered words that Arthur couldn’t understand though the sound of them was as familiar to him as his own language.

The embers were shooting up from the fire but then they slowed and coalesced into a shape, one Arthur recognized. It was the symbol of his house, after all, even if he’d always found that strange when they were sworn enemies. Still, he could always recognize a dragon.

The fire wings flapped gently up and down and the effect was mesmerizing, the heat making waves across the clearing toward them, yet the figure never traveled, hovering in mid-air across the flames. An impossible shape, forged by the unnatural. 

It was beautiful.

His first clear thought was one of irrational terror. Arthur was not a coward, but he was not stupid either. He looked around over his shoulder to see if anyone was there, was there anyone else there? Was anyone else witness to this confession, could any of his knights save him? His fingers fumbled for a sword he wasn’t wearing and hadn’t the strength to hold anyway. Mind-numbing fear swept over him and his hazed mind raced, trying to find a way out of the situation he found himself in. 

Because his second thought was one of helplessness. There was no one there. Arthur was alone, barely able to move, let alone defend himself. He would ordinarily have felt safe with Merlin, strange though the idea may have been; there was something so constant about Merlin. But now, now every single constant in Arthur’s life had been turned over and rampaged upon and he was alone with a sorcerer and he had to somehow find a way not to die.

The third thought he had was one of habit. If there was one thing Arthur was good at, it was telling Merlin what to do. Though Arthur kept thinking the same mantra of ‘sorcerer evil,’ over and over again, underneath it was an insane hope that perhaps, just perhaps, because it was Merlin, there could be some way of acting as if Arthur was still in control of the situation. Some way to keep the inevitable from happening.

"Leave me," he croaked out, ashamed at how scared he sounded, but unable to help himself.

"Arthur…"

Merlin reached for him, but Arthur recoiled, unable to tolerate being touched by this person in front of him whom he didn’t really know. He couldn’t stand to look at Merlin, couldn’t bear to hear the pain in the other man’s voice. What right did Merlin have to sound like he was in pain? He was not the one betrayed, the one in danger. It was his moment of triumph. Arthur almost forgot to be afraid as he desperately wished with all his might for this all to be a dream, to be anywhere but where he was.

"No, you heard…just-"

There was a quiet, wounded sound and then Merlin was gone. Arthur doubted he had gone far. It wasn’t like Merlin ever truly did as he was told anyway, which brought on a whole new wave of misery. But the immediate need of keeping up appearances was gone and Arthur unclenched his jaw, riding out the new stab of pain that was currently buffeting his side. He could think more clearly without Merlin there watching him, with sad, tear-filled eyes.

Merlin the liar, Merlin the betrayer. Merlin the last in a long line of people Arthur loved who didn’t love him back.

It was always loss that made you remember the good. Arthur could well remember the first day waking up with Guinevere banished and thinking how incredibly dull and empty and pointless and unbearably sad life was. This was the same feeling and Arthur wanted to wallow in it. He wanted to sit and sulk and fume and then kill something and then somehow, forget, forget, forget. But that was not an option.

He still had to get himself out of this situation, had to distance himself from his personal feelings on the matter, had to put that aside for some very long talks with his wife and hunting trips that wouldn’t now be ruined by bumbling oafs who couldn’t be quiet to save their lives.

Arthur almost wished he had died without ever hearing the truth.

But he couldn’t give up, couldn’t rest, he had to plan. Surely his men would be looking for him; the battle had been won, he remembered that much. Someone had to have missed the King by now. They wouldn’t expect him to be with Merlin because Merlin hadn’t been at the battle at all, at least, not in a way that anyone would recognize. And that was an even more confusing train of thought so Arthur forced his mind in another direction.

Could he move? Could he possibly go and try and get help? Would it be wise to do so with a known sorcerer (he was trying not to think of the word sorcerer and Merlin in the same thought) lurking somewhere nearby along with who knew how many possible enemy soldiers? 

That train of thought, however wise or foolish it might have been, was quickly derailed by the sheer lack of movement Arthur was able to get from his body. The pain was almost unbearable, matched only by the pain in his heart. It felt like there was something inside him, clawing at his body and mind, searching to destroy him forever. It was clouding his judgment, making it impossible for him to make a plan.

Arthur hated the vulnerability that put him in. He hated the way it gave him nothing to do but think about Merlin.

Arthur tried to puzzle it out, when had Merlin turned to…sorcery? Had it been a voluntary choice? Perhaps he had been bewitched? Perhaps he was under someone else’s control? Maybe if he could be weaned off of it, if it had been only a recent change, he could be saved from the corruption, become like Gaius?

Arthur still couldn’t see it. Only the blatant confession and breath-taking image of a dragon made of fire still in his head said otherwise. But Merlin, a sorcerer? It made absolutely no sense. Merlin was clumsy, foolish, disobedient, reckless, brave, loyal, stupid; prone to occasional fits of wisdom and brilliance, but most often so simple that Arthur treated him like the child he was.

Merlin couldn’t be the mastermind of fiendish magical plots, could never hope to contend with the danger of a magical attack such as those Morgana had flung at Arthur for years, could never be anything other than Merlin.

These thoughts brought Arthur no peace and he couldn’t distract himself from the pain. It was too much to bear and he found himself fighting against the blackness that threatened to overtake him once more. He wanted nothing more than to stay awake, to watch out in case Merlin tried anything, to see if there was anyone who could help him, but the dark was more powerful and he felt himself slipping back into the oblivion where at least he didn’t have to think about it anymore.

***

The next time Arthur remembered opening his eyes, there was light all around him instead of the dark. Merlin was standing with his back to him and Arthur studied him for a long moment, about to call a greeting when he remembered.

It all came rushing back to him, the bad dream that was the worse for having wakened. There was no safety or comfort in Merlin standing guard over him as there normally was. Arthur was not with a friend, he was being held prisoner, however much either of them pretended otherwise.

Merlin looked as if he was waiting for something, his right foot tapping anxiously as it always did when he was worried about something. Arthur tried to concentrate on watching him instead of the pain in his side, but then Merlin started to turn around and Arthur snapped his eyes shut, pretending to still be asleep.

There were soft footsteps and then Arthur felt someone crouching down beside him and feeling his forehead and then a muttered curse.

“I’m sorry, Arthur,” Merlin said quietly, his voice tight with worry.

Arthur had to fight the insane urge to laugh and keep as quiet and still as was expected of someone who was asleep. He was quite sure that anyone who might have witnessed this tableau would consider it quite touching, the servant boy concerned for his master. What Arthur wanted to know was how long Merlin would keep up the charade. If only it wasn’t one. For a brief moment Arthur thought he might give up his kingdom for that.

There was a long space of waiting after that while Arthur felt worse and worse, but he couldn’t face Merlin, he just couldn’t. So he kept on pretending to be asleep and thinking and feeling stupid and hurt and wondering if somehow this could all be made right again.

There had been many times Arthur had considered the possibility all magic wasn’t evil and he had long held that thought privately himself. There just hadn’t been time to think about it or do anything about it. And there was no denying Merlin had stayed with him for years and had had ample time to kill Arthur or force him to his will. What was the purpose of it all? This sorcery thing had to be a new development. 

Which just made it worse. Because Arthur could understand Merlin needing to keep such a secret early on in their friendship, he could see that Merlin wouldn’t have always been able to trust Arthur. But for years now they had been as close as brothers, no matter how little they talked about it. If Merlin had fallen into danger or done something stupid, the fact that he didn’t trust Arthur with it…that was an unbearable thought. 

But, perhaps, it meant there was also a cure, which helped Arthur to decide to worry about getting better himself so he could save Merlin, who’d stumbled into something he shouldn’t have. Yes, that was a much better plan. Much better than thinking Merlin was an almighty sorcerer who had been lying to Arthur and plotting against him for years. Or another person who had betrayed him.

Then there was another sound and Merlin was speaking with someone. Gaius, Arthur realized, and he felt better immediately. At least it was not one of Morgana’s people, and he felt a pang of sorrow at the blow he was going to have to deal Gaius, but just because Arthur had postponed judgment did not mean that he and Gaius were not still in very grave danger.

And, all the while Arthur thought this, they argued about herbs and plants above him and Merlin’s voice sounded truly worried for Arthur until Gaius told Merlin to go water the horses.

Arthur slowly opened his eyes, clasped Gaius by the hand, and whispered urgently.

"He's a sorcerer.” Arthur felt like a fool because Gaius simply looked at him patiently, calmly, almost with pity. Realization slid over Arthur. All hopes of reconciliation were lost, all hopes of Merlin being enchanted gone. “You knew."

"Arthur, he is your friend," Gaius said firmly.

No friend would lie to him, no matter how many years it had been going on.

"I want him gone," Arthur said coldly, still unable to even think about being alone with Merlin again.

"There is no need to fear him."

Arthur did not fear him, not now. No, now he hated Merlin, wanted him gone, never to see him again, and Arthur did not care if Merlin thought he was doing the right thing or whatever other idiotic excuse he might have. Arthur could only think of Merlin being gone.

"Have him take word to Camelot, to Guinevere."

Arthur was desperate indeed to suggest such a thing, but he wasn’t thinking about strategy or wisdom or anything but getting the traitor as far away from him as possible.

"You cannot send Merlin, I will go."

"I need a physician right now, not a sorcerer."

Gaius looked at him and Arthur squirmed under the scrutiny. Arthur was King, why did he feel instead like a child, pitied and censored and indulged? It was unbelievably, horribly unfair.

Then Gaius spoke to him and Arthur forgot his anger in incredulity. There was something going on that he was missing.

"He can do far more than me, far more than you can ever imagine. Arthur, he doesn't just have magic. There are those who say he's the greatest sorcerer ever to walk the earth."

"Merlin?"

Arthur let his scorn of the idea drip from his words because it felt better, felt more natural, felt like the real him was speaking for the first time since he’d woken up after the battle.

"If you are to stand any chance of survival, you need Merlin to help you, not me."

And Arthur had no idea why, but he believed Gaius. So he shut his mouth and let the man examine him, wincing and clenching his jaw in turn. But even if Merlin was willing to and able to help him, could Arthur accept help from such a man? Everything he’d ever been taught suggested no.

Gaius gave his diagnosis in crisp, clear tones and Arthur blanched at the thought of the evil sword still inside him, unable to be drawn out; but he blanched even more at the idea of traveling to a place of magic, with a sorcerer, to beg for healing.

“You can’t be serious,” he told Gaius.

Gaius looked at him sternly and Arthur was reminded of when he would get into fights with Morgana as a child and be sent to Gaius to be healed and the man would look at him the exact same way.

“Is it your pride, Sire, that speaks these words?” he asked. “This is your only chance. I suggest you take it.”

Arthur’s mind flashed back to his own mouth saying those words, to a man both hated and loathed and feared for years, extending his hand and expecting it to be knocked aside, longing for peace instead of more war. Dimly he was aware of Merlin having been the voice of reason in that situation, keeping Arthur from running rampant with his own emotions.

Arthur was humbled and gave a curt nod, unwilling to give more than that in his situation and resenting Gaius for seeming to expect it of him.

Gaius got up from his side and went to speak to Merlin. Arthur lay quiet, feeling slightly better with the poultice Gaius had applied. He could breathe more easily now.

"Arthur?” Merlin’s voice sounded from his right. It sounded tentative. “We need to leave at first light."

And there Merlin was again, sounding like the wounded party. Arthur hated that. Almost as much as he still hated when Merlin sounded wounded.

"I'll decide."

"I can't let you die,” Merlin said, his voice absolutely crystal with conviction and Arthur was surprised to feel an answering warmth inside, a feeling of gratitude.

But it didn’t change anything so he said so.

***

They spent another fitful night on the ground and Arthur was well enough by the morning to allow Merlin to carry him to the horse and get him astride. It was humiliating and galling, but Arthur had spent the night remonstrating himself for acting like a child and remembering just who and what he was. He slipped his necklace over his neck, handing it to Gaius.

"Gaius, give this to Guinevere.”

"It's the royal seal, Sire."

"If I am to die I can think of no one I would rather succeed me."

Arthur was not a private person; he could not spend his time feeling sorry for himself over the betrayal of a servant when the state of his kingdom was in question. He must look to the future because he could not guarantee this magical venture would work. He hoped the sending of the ring would convey everything to her that he was not able to say in person. He was not comfortable with sending intimate messages of love and farewell through another person, but he did not doubt that she would know how much he valued her, how important their marriage was to him. Their last night together had been spent proving that to her as well as he knew how. This was the only gesture he had left.

So he stayed on his horse, clutching his own ring, the one she had kissed before he’d gone into battle, and trying not to listen to Gaius and Merlin saying farewell, wondering at the obvious devotion between them.

The journey was painful, every step a jar to his side, and he grit his teeth, focused solely on staying on his horse. He didn’t have time to worry about Merlin, to wonder about Merlin, and he certainly didn’t talk to him.

Merlin was clearly worried; he kept glancing over at Arthur like he wanted to say something and then changing his mind. His head shot up at every noise around them, he was so jittery, Arthur almost wanted to make a joke about his cowardice, but that couldn’t be true, now could it? Merlin had magic to protect him.

There was a sound behind them of galloping hooves and Merlin pulled his horse up, scanning around them.

"Saxons," he said, jumping down.

"I'll deal with them," Arthur said, trying to make the effort and knowing it was pointless.

Merlin would do something magical. 

Still, in a way it would be so much easier if he could know that they were doomed because he was mortally injured and Merlin was useless. It was a selfish and foolish thought, but it was easier.

"Keep your head down and don't speak,” Merlin said, jerking Arthur’s cloak over his head, and then waved the Saxons down. "Help us! Please you have to help us. We were ambushed."

Arthur marveled at the innocent, helpless servant act. It was effortless, like it was Merlin. It just didn’t make sense.

"By who?" asked one of the Saxons.

"Two men," Merlin answered.

"What did they look like?"

"Uh, one was a knight. They stormed our camp."

"You're sure it was a Camelot knight?"

"Yeah."

Unfortunately for them, Merlin’s lies and subterfuge weren’t good enough and Arthur was exposed to the Saxons, his body slumped and useless and he cursed it.

But then there was Merlin, his back toward Arthur, his hands held out, and the men went flying backward effortlessly, their necks broken.

Arthur idly reflected that Merlin was a warrior in his own chosen craft, his skills in battle as sharpened as Arthur’s own. Which just brought back the feeling of betrayal, the knowledge that Merlin had always lived this double life.

"You've lied to me all this time,” Arthur said numbly.

Merlin didn’t answer. Was he feeling guilty or did he just not care?

***

By the time they made camp for the night, all of Arthur’s strength had been depleted, the slight improvement from the poultice dissipated.

He lay against a tree, feeling very sorry for himself, all the thoughts and queries swirling around his head, but he had neither the strength nor the time to deal with them. Still, he watched Merlin trying to light the fire, the scene familiar, he’d watched it a million times before, and he couldn’t stop the question.

"Why don't you use magic?"

Merlin looked at him, his movements slow and unsure.

"Habit, I suppose.” The flames suddenly rose from the wood and Arthur felt warmer. “Feels strange."

"Yeah.” Arthur paused a moment, trying to voice something, but not knowing what. “Thought I knew you."

"I'm still the same person," Merlin said softly and that was a warning sign, because Merlin was only gentle when something was wrong.

Something was wrong. It was different than it had been. Everything was different; everything Arthur had ever thought was so altered. Before he’d been reeling under the change, but slowly the little things, yet somehow the biggest, were creeping into his mind, taking over his more obvious fears.

"I trusted you," he said dully, not even caring what he sounded like.

"I'm sorry."

Merlin ducked his head and looked away.

"I'm sorry too.” Arthur was very sorry. The old life had been a good one. Sometimes it was better not to know. Still, Merlin didn’t answer, just starting taking Arthur’s boots off and confusing him even more. “What are you doing?"

"They need drying."

Just like that. His master’s boots needed drying so Merlin was pulling them off the same way he always did. Hadn’t everything been completely changed? Yet there Merlin was, acting like everything was the same. He was, without a doubt, the most infuriating person Arthur had ever met. The thought was familiar and somewhat comforting and the last thing Arthur knew before he drifted to sleep.

***

Arthur slept better than he thought he would have. He was still finding it hard to move without pain, but pain he could control to some extent. He’d had more injuries during his life than he could count. This was the worst one he could remember, but it was still just physical pain. 

But that left him too much time to contemplate the mystery of Merlin.

Merlin who had made him soup.

"This will be good for you. You need to eat."

Arthur couldn’t keep up the distant act any longer. Between him and Merlin had always flowed an open converse of words, many of them derogatory and spoken in frustration, but he had never hesitated to say anything to Merlin or not wanted to hear the response. Arthur would blame it on being wounded later, but he needed to talk to Merlin. That, apart from being with Guinevere again, was the thing he wanted most in this new world of his.

"Why are you doing this? Why are you still behaving like a servant?"

"It's my destiny,” Merlin said, like it was the simplest thing in the world. “As it has been since the day we met."

The day Arthur’s life had changed forever and there was a small smile of remembrance to be had from that.

"I tried to take your head off with a mace."

All right, that had been the second time they met, but it sounded better this way.

"And I stopped you, using magic,” Merlin said, his smile creeping up on his face.

His stupid smile.

"You cheated?"

"Yeah, you were going to kill me."

"Should've," Arthur said, only half meaning it.

Merlin moved away, shutting down a little.

"I'm glad you didn't,” he said, and then spoke with renewed animation, like he was saying a prayer. “I do this because of who you are. Without you Camelot is nothing. I did not always believe that. Certainly not that first day we met. Pretty sure I wanted to take _your_ head off with a mace. But you’ve proved it over and over again. There'll never be another like you, Arthur.” Merlin’s words rose and fell with authority and Arthur raised his eyebrow, impressed with their sincerity and the ease with which Merlin spoke them. Then Merlin urged more soup into his mouth, effectively ending any response Arthur may have made. “Now I also do this because you're my friend and I don't want to lose you."


	2. You Don't Get What All This is About

The fire was low so Merlin stacked more wood on top of it. He was anxious to get going, to do something. If there was anything he hated, it was waiting. But Arthur was too injured to travel at night and the danger of being spotted by Morgana’s scouts was great. For all his power, Merlin still couldn’t think of anything else to do than what he was doing, yet he felt that he was missing something obvious. He was using all his excess energy on Arthur, giving him strength and easing the pain. Yet, Arthur was still barely able to go on. Merlin hated to think of what pain Arthur would be in if Merlin hadn’t been here.

Of course, Arthur was in pain because of Merlin. Because of his secret, his lies, his betrayal.

Merlin couldn’t stop thinking about it, about the moment he’d found Arthur on the battlefield, seemingly lifeless. He’d gathered him in his arms, walking over Mordred’s body, then retreated to a safe place, made contact with Gaius, and stood watch. It had been automatic, his need to be practical and take care of Arthur. It was more than a destiny, it was Merlin’s life.

But he’d been so tired of it all, so tired of lying and hiding and being unable to help from the open. His experience in the Cave had showed him the inner core of his power, opened his eyes to possibilities he had always shrunk away from. He knew he should have told Arthur long ago and that waiting so long made it that much more of a betrayal. All the excuses he’d made, they’d died in the light of the Cave. And he’d been scared. Arthur was so close to dying and the worst thing Merlin could think of was Arthur dying and him not knowing he held Merlin’s absolute trust, not knowing who Merlin really was.

So he hadn’t hesitated to make a clean breast of it. It had been the hardest thing he’d ever done, every word seemingly ripped from his heart out of his mouth, but he knew it had been the right thing to do. The timing hadn’t been excellent, but it had been necessary.

The absolute terror on Arthur’s face haunted Merlin every time he closed his eyes. The idea that Arthur would ever be scared of him was laughable, unthinkable, yet it had been so. And still Arthur had managed to pull from the arrogant depths of his kingly self and act like he was still in control. He never ceased to amaze Merlin.

But everything was different now. Arthur had looked at him with such distaste, such anger, and it had been all Merlin could do not to crawl away into some Cave somewhere and feel sorry for himself for the rest of his very long life. But that wasn’t an option for him. Merlin had never had the choice of giving up, of letting go, of doing anything other than be at Arthur’s side. And he wasn’t about to stop now.

So Merlin had pulled himself together that long night while Arthur slept and protected his King like he was supposed to. He'd pushed through Arthur’s stubbornness and anger and was determined to save him, even if Arthur decided he hated Merlin.

It had been awful, like Merlin had lost a limb, like he’d suddenly gone deaf; everything was off balance, because his world was supposed to be one where Arthur trusted him. That had been the greatest joy in Merlin's life, knowing Arthur was there, knowing he could rely on Merlin, even when he joked that he couldn’t.

Once Gaius had arrived, his presence had been a comfort like it always was. But Gaius could not completely patch the gaping wounds in Merlin's soul every time Arthur looked away from him in stony silence. But the decision had been made, the decision to go for Avalon. At least then, Merlin was in action, following a course that could set something to right, even if it wasn't the ultimate fix he wanted more than anything.

Their journey was tense, full of uncomfortable silence, and Merlin was busy trying to ascertain the dangers around them. It would be unconscionable of him not to be alert now. Just because the battle was over did not mean Morgana wouldn’t be out for blood. And Arthur was so weak, it made it hard not to act like Merlin normally would and fuss just to get a reaction out of him. Yet he’d known Arthur wasn’t in a state that would allow him to receive such attention, so Merlin had kept quiet, trying to let Arthur work everything out in his own head.

But it was like a knife in Merlin's heart when he’d saved them from the Saxons and Arthur had simply remarked about how long Merlin had lied to him. But Merlin couldn’t say anything; there was no defense he could make. Well, there were a lot of defenses he could make and he planned on making them, but not until after Arthur was saved. And Merlin could never be sure if Arthur would accept them or not.

There had been small moments of hope. Arthur had allowed him to light a fire using magic, had accepted Merlin’s help. The next day Arthur had talked about their first meeting with fondness and he’d actually asked Merlin questions instead of assuming he knew the answers.

It was like breathing fully for the first time to tell Arthur it was Merlin's destiny to help him. That had been ten years in the telling and there was still so much more to say, but Merlin felt glad to have made a beginning.

He knew he had betrayed Arthur’s trust, that Arthur wouldn’t be able to see past that, but no matter what Arthur’s opinion of him, he needed Arthur to know Merlin’s opinion of him. Not the everyday friend and horrible prat version of Arthur that Merlin could sometimes do without, but the noble King and warrior who gave everything for his people, who looked past titles and positions and was able to see the heart inside. The one who had done, and would do, more for this land than any other. Merlin had seen the seeds sown; he now wanted them to grow. He wanted Arthur to believe in himself as much as Merlin did.

Though when it came down to it, Merlin served Arthur because they were friends. That would always be Merlin’s primary motivation and he said it simply when Arthur asked, not wanting an answer, just needing to say it.

They’d traveled so close to the lake but they were further away than Merlin would like and he was trying to think of ways he could speed up their progress that wouldn’t injure Arthur. They needed to move, but Arthur was sluggish, seemingly beyond caring now. It worried Merlin horribly. 

Arthur stirred from his nap and then slumped over. Merlin moved to catch him.

"Arthur, you need to hold on. One more day. One more day."

"Why did you never tell me?" Arthur asked, like he was still asleep.

"I wanted to. You'd have chopped my head off," Merlin said, going for a light tone, despite his very real fear several times that it would happen.

"I'm not sure what I'd have done."

"And I didn't want to put you in that position," Merlin said firmly. 

That was very much the truth. Arthur had always had much more to worry about than an ordinary person. Whenever Merlin had come close to telling him, something had always happened to stop him, something that made Merlin realize Arthur wasn’t ready yet. And in the beginning Merlin would never have wanted to pit Arthur against his father for the sake of a servant.

"That's what worried you?" 

Arthur looked at him, a sort of wry affection on his face, the same look he’d get whenever he thought Merlin was being absurd.

"Some men are born to plough fields, some live to be great physicians, others to be great Kings. Me? I was born to serve you, Arthur, and I'm proud of that and I wouldn't change a thing.” Merlin said it all with conviction. He had resisted his destiny many times, but once he had accepted it, he took all the hardship and all the grief and simply turned it into energy to help Arthur. Arthur’s face as Merlin spoke gave him hope, just possibly Arthur was willing to see past the lies and be his friend. But he didn’t have time for that. Not when Arthur was dying. “Ready?"

Arthur barely made it on his horse and they’d only gone a few hundred feet when they smelled smoke.

"Saxons," Arthur whispered.

Merlin used his magic to sense the path ahead, a skill he had been very grateful for since he’d learned it on their way to the Dark Tower.

"They're long gone," he assured Arthur.

"How do you know?"

"I can see the path ahead."

"So you're not an idiot; that was another lie."

Arthur didn’t sound angry, he sounded like Arthur.

"No, it's just another part of my charm," Merlin said, daring to smile at him.

Arthur smiled back and for one blissful moment they were Arthur and Merlin again before Arthur’s eyes rolled back into his head and he pitched from the horse.

Merlin jumped from his horse and ran over to him, frantically feeling for a pulse. It was too low. Arthur was going to die, right here and now, unless he could do something. Why hadn’t he simply tied him to the horse?

"We have to make it to the lake," Merlin told him urgently.

"It's too late, it's too late," Arthur said breathlessly. “Just tell Guin-"

"I can't,” Merlin pleaded. “No, Arthur, no goodbyes, no speeches, I'm not going to lose you."

"Just, just, hold me, please."

And then Arthur was silent.

Merlin sat there for a moment with tears running down his face, cursing himself for a helpless fool. But he would not be thwarted now. He reached down into his inner self and pulled on his magical power, blue fire flowing from his fingers into Arthur who suddenly jolted awake, though he did not appear to be conscious of what was happening around him.

Then there were noises from behind Merlin. He could hear hooves beating and looked with his sight again. His eyes widened because it was Morgana, alone on horseback, riding directly toward them, her hair flying in the wind, her eyes filled with vicious glee.

Merlin no longer felt afraid of his power to beat her in magical combat, but he did not have time to waste.

So Merlin threw back his head and called, his voice rolling with the deep dragon tongue.

As always, Kilgharrah was there with inhuman speed.

Arthur stirred slightly

"I would not have summoned you if there was any other choice,” Merlin said, standing up, laying Arthur’s head down gently. “I have one last favor to ask."

“You know I would do anything for you, young warlock,” Kilgharrah said.

Hastily Merlin carried Arthur to the dragon and hoisted him on Kilgharrah’s back and climbed aboard.

“To Avalon,” Merlin said, “with haste. Morgana is close behind.”

“The witch will not be able to best me,” Kilgharrah said haughtily and Merlin smiled grimly.

“Nor me.”

They rose into the air and the last thing Merlin saw of the ground below them was Morgana reining in her horse and staring up at them, screaming his name in hate as they vanished into the sky. Bolts of fire flew from her hands, incinerating Merlin’s horse, who gave a horrible cry as it died.

Merlin couldn’t see what happened after that because when Kilgharrah said he could travel leagues in the blink of an eye, he meant it. They were at the lake shore within seconds.

Kilgharrah watched as Merlin carried Arthur to the shore, then spoke.

"Merlin, there is nothing you can do."

"I can't lose him, he's my friend,” Merlin yelled, not caring what the dragon thought of him.

“You know the prophecy, you know what must happen. It is written that at Camlann, Arthur will meet his end.”

“Don’t talk to me about semantics!” Merlin said, placing Arthur in the boat. “I am tired of destinies and prophecies that I either cannot change or make come true by trying to stop them. But it will not be this time. I am Emrys and I will change Arthur’s fate. End does not have to mean death.”

Kilgharrah blinked in surprise at Merlin’s surety and Merlin couldn’t blame him. He’d never claimed that title for himself and he’d never been so certain about his path. But while he’d been simply Merlin the past few days in order to ease Arthur’s mind, Merlin could never fully be the man he’d been. He’d seen too much, felt too much of himself, and who he was meant to be.

“Your wisdom has grown, young one,” Kilgharrah said gravely, then inclined his head. “I fear you have no more need of me. I am proud of you.”

“Does that mean you knew he doesn’t have to die?” Merlin demanded, feeling a flush of pride nonetheless.

“Dragons know many things, but we do not know all,” Kilgharrah answered. “I know Arthur will meet his end, but, as you say, that word choice does leave the prophecy open to interpretation. Truth be told, I was surprised to see it end this way for you have not yet done all that it was foretold you would do.”

“Then tell me what to do on the island,” Merlin said.

“The Sidhe are no friend to mortal man,” Kilgharrah said. “You will have to be most persuasive. They have no love of Arthur or his manservant, but perhaps they will listen to Emrys. And never forget, young warlock, you are Emrys and you are magic itself.”

Merlin’s head shot up at that, remembering the words his father had spoken to him in the Cave.

“I am magic itself,” he murmured, getting into the boat, before looking back to the dragon. “Thank you. I am in your debt.”

“We are of the same kin,” Kilgharrah told Merlin, launching himself into the sky. “The privilege is mine and I am ever at your call.”

Merlin turned his attention to the lake, pushing the boat forward with his magic, willing it to move fast and smooth. Arthur coughed and jerked occasionally at his feet, but he was breathing more easily now and Merlin wondered why he hadn’t just asked Kilgharrah for a ride in the first place. Probably because of the dragon’s hatred of being ridden and how old he’d looked the last time Merlin had seen him, but this had been a desperate situation and Merlin knew that was what he’d been worrying about missing earlier. He’d been too distracted and he was angry with himself for ignoring the obvious help he had at his disposal.

The island loomed above him within a short amount of time and Merlin could feel so much magical energy dancing around through the air, winding through the trees, trailing along the edges of the water. In a way it was like coming home and he breathed fully, feeling refreshed and energized. He trailed his fingers through the water and imagined for one precious moment it was like stroking the side of Freya’s face. But he didn’t have to time to reflect on the past, for they had reached the shore.

“W-what’s going on?” Arthur asked, his eyes struggling to open.

“We’re at the lake, Arthur,” Merlin said, carrying him across the shore, heading for a small copse of trees. “You need to hold on.”

“Ugly place…i-isn’t it?” Arthur slurred out. “Muddy.”

“I don’t know,” Merlin said, easing him down. “I’m thinking of building a summer residence here. I quite like it.”

“F-figures. Y-you would,” Arthur said as derisively as his weakened state allowed, closing his eyes, his pulse dropping rapidly.

Merlin wasted no more time, but he threw back his head and summoned the Sidhe. He did not call to them as kin, like the dragons, but as a master to servant. He had no love for them, for the tricks they played, but he respected their power.

Spots of light shimmered around him as the faeries called themselves into corporeal existence. He slowed time, relishing that feeling of being a part of something grand. Their beauty always awed him, but despite the slowing of time, he still needed to hurry.

“Lords and Ladies of the Sidhe,” he said, extending his hands, “I come seeking a favor. A great King of men is ill, fallen by an immortal blade. I ask for the magic of the Sidhe to save him.”

A chorus of mocking laughter greeted his words, ringing out merrily through the still woods, yet there was an edge of menace to the laughter for all its lightness. 

“We are the Sidhe,” a bright spot of light said from his right. “What do we care if the mortal dies?”

“Arthur Pendragon is destined to be Albion’s greatest King, to unite the Five Kingdoms, and to restore magic to the land. By refusing to save him, you are hurting yourselves.”

“The boy-king has not accomplished all of these things nor does it seem likely he will,” another faerie said. “He despises you, you who are close to him, for having magic.”

“He needs time. I used the word destined for a reason,” Merlin said desperately. “Just because it has not happened does not mean it can’t.”

“Arthur is to meet his end.”

“The end of what? Perhaps the end of his prejudice to magic. Do not be blinded by the past.”

“You are blinded by the future.”

Merlin tightened his jaw. 

“I am blinded by the character of the man who lies on the ground. He is greater than any I have ever met. He deserves that chance.”

“He has been saved by magic before,” a light said, bobbing in closer and almost skimming over Arthur’s silent form. “You tempt fate by asking for another chance.”

Merlin desperately tried to think, grasping the right words to say. What could convince them? What had Kilgharrah said to him about the Sidhe? What had he read about them? What had the Crystal Cave taught him? He closed his eyes, the answer rising to his mind from deep within him.

“I am fate,” Merlin declared, throwing out his hand and letting words fall from his tongue. He felt the change, a familiar creeping on of old age, yet a deeper mantle of power, as he transformed into an older man. “I am Emrys. You will do as I ask.”

The faeries started flying faster and faster until even he had a hard time keeping track of them. Words of fear, respect, and shock passed between them and soon he couldn’t understand what they were saying. A great rumble shook the island and then a bright light appeared, straining his eyes. He held his hand in front of them as the light expanded.

A humming rang in the air and then a chill swept through Merlin as he stood, an old man, alone. But he had never felt so confident in his life. The unearthly noise was beautiful, a melody he’d never heard before but wished he could pay more attention to. Then the light contracted to a single point and a form was made visible right in front of him, one he had seen before.

“Mab,” he said, inclining his head to the Queen of Air and Darkness.

He’d read up on her after their last encounter.

“You risk much, Emrys,” she said, nodding back to him. “Your presumption is high.”

“Is it though?” he asked respectfully. “You recognize me as Emrys, you know my purpose and my power. I am made of magic as the Sidhe are. You belong to my order.”

“Prettily put, warlock,” she said, “yet you are asking for power to do a task that we do not have.”

“But…” Merlin said, trailing off as he realized he only had the word of Gaius that it was possible to heal Arthur. “…this island, it holds the magic.”

“But we are not to wield it so,” she said, smiling a cold smile. “Only the great Emrys has that power. If you are truly he, then only you can save Arthur Pendragon.”

“Then I will,” Merlin said, trying not to let his surprise show. “Tell me what I must do.”

“We will allow this on our ancient isle,” Mab said, studying him, “on one condition. Only here may you perform your power and you may only do so if we grant our permission. This is an ancient law far beyond your power to overthrow, so take heed before you refuse us.”

“What is your condition?” Merlin asked suspiciously.

“That when Arthur Pendragon does come to his end, the end of death, that he will be placed here on this isle to rest until it is time.”

“Time for what?”

“For the Once and Future King’s purpose to be fulfilled.”

Merlin studied her, feeling unsure about his answer. From what he knew of the Sidhe, they were notoriously tricky, but their spoken word was their bond. Yet he sensed an urgency in Mab, a fear that she would be refused, and not a fear for herself or the Sidhe. It was something deeper than that, some great thing that rested on his decision; terrible events would happen if he said no, not just Arthur’s death.

He paused, but there was really only one answer he could make.

“You have the word of Emrys.”

“So mote it be,” Mab said and the faeries all echoed her words, the chorus of voices lifting up like a seal of judgment.

The faeries started to glow, moving together into a swirl of golden energy. They flowed toward Merlin, flowed over him, and he stepped backward under the force of the magic at his disposal. It was more than the island itself, it was magic itself, it was like part of himself. It was the most amazing feeling.

Merlin allowed a smile to curl around his mouth because there were no more doubts, no more fears. He knew exactly what he needed to do now. This was magic at its purest form, completely malleable, neither good nor evil, it simply was. In the wrong hands it would be horrendous, but Merlin felt nothing but peace.

He focused the magic, letting it become a part of him, letting it flow through him. Arthur became a silhouette in his vision, glowing with blue energy except where a single dark cloud hovered in his chest, the piece of the accursed blade.

Merlin let the magic cover the sword fragment, dissolving it under the stronger power. It faded into non-existence, and Arthur immediately began to breathe easier, but his side was open, gaping, blood pouring forth.

Merlin slammed the power into Arthur, picturing the body inside, allowing it to knit and heal, each layer of tissue and muscle being repaired. Merlin loved this fusion of magic and healing, the two things he was good at, though he had never been so able to mix them before. The magic did its work and Merlin allowed himself to breathe again. He felt winded, but strong for all that, the magic of the Sidhe siphoning out of him to dwell among the island once more. He could still feel it, calling to him, and in a way, it was a loss and he missed it, but he had more than enough magic of his own and the extra had served its purpose.

Merlin let the old man form melt away, stretching his young muscles and yawning.

On the ground below him, Arthur’s eyes opened and Merlin grinned at the look of shock on Arthur's face.

“Sire,” he said, bowing low and extending his hand to help Arthur up.


	3. You Don't Gain a Single Thing From Misery

Gwen was not a woman who allowed personal loss to hold her back from anything. In a way, her entire life had been molded from loss, the loss of her mother, father, brother, her best friend, her status, and now…well, she didn’t want to think about what she might have lost now. She had never let the loss take hold of her before and she was not about to start.

She hurried from cot to cot, amazed at how much she knew about binding wounds, at how much the blood and the filth and the pain didn’t bother her. They were dreadful, the results of a battle that had never made sense to her, but their horror held no fear for her when the fighting still hung in the balance. While Arthur was out there somewhere, fighting for his life and her life, and their kingdom.

She took a spare moment to breathe, refocusing her priorities when Leon entered the healing tent.

"My lady, the battle is won. The Saxons are in full retreat, they're heading for the hills. I've dispatched two hundred men to drive our advantage home."

She immediately breathed easier.

"And Arthur?"

The look on Leon’s face said it all.

"We'll keep looking."

"Thank you," she said, briskly, yet with gratitude, and turned away, unable to stand the look of pity on his face.

She wouldn’t think about it. She may not have always been, but she was now Queen, she was just as responsible for the lives of these men as Arthur was and she owed them the battle. She could not fall apart despite the creeping anxiety growing over her very bones as a litany of possible deaths that could befall her husband presented themselves to her.

She continued to work for what felt like hours. Each man she treated was Arthur, their wounds his wounds. His face appeared before her, beaten bloody, parts hacked off, until she wanted to vomit and weep. She worked and worked to the point of exhaustion and when the next man who came to her was Gwaine, his shoulder wrenched out of place, she found she couldn’t hold it in any longer and the tears escaped her.

“Gwen?” he asked, sounding worried. “My lady?”

She realized she was bending over, holding her middle, trying to keep it all inside and not able to. There was a high, gasping sound coming from her mouth and she wished she could vanish.

“I-I-" she said and couldn’t go any further.

“You need rest,” he said, holding her with his good arm and she had a sudden desire to laugh at the absurdity. “Here,” he called out and then warm arms picked her up and laid her somewhere soft.

It was comforting and familiar and smelled like Arthur. She realized she was in their bed, wrapped in the blankets that had cocooned them together only the night before. Someone put something bitter on her tongue and she resisted it as much as she could before a gray fog rolled over her senses and she sunk down into thankful oblivion.

***

When next Gwen woke she was still in her and Arthur’s bed, but it was their bed in Camelot, the ceiling as familiar to her as the one she’d grown up waking to the sight of.

There was a stirring in the outer room and she looked, wanting to find a familiar face, Gaius or Merlin, or, the best of all, Arthur.

“My lady,” said a small voice and Gwen sighed.

“Sarah,” she said, “is all well?”

“Yes, my lady. All the men were returned home safe. Those able to fight are off rounding up stragglers of the Saxons or looking-"

“For the King,” Gwen finished for Sarah, her voice numb to her own ears.

“I’m sorry, my lady,” Sarah said, sounding frightened.

Gwen liked her, she was a good girl, honest, and the daughter of a woman some years older than Gwen, who had been one of her friends before her marriage. Sarah had proved loyal and good at her job and Gwen couldn’t blame her for not being the people Gwen wanted to see the most.

“Will you please help me to dress and send for Sir Leon? I wish to speak with him right away.”

Sarah curtsied and moved to do as she was bid. Gwen went through the repetitive motions of being dressed that were now familiar to her. She’d often been on Sarah’s side of it before, but it was only as the Queen she’d truly understood how necessary it was to have someone else help with the process, everything being much more complex than it looked from the outside.

While Sarah went to summon Leon, Gwen absently picked at some fruit left for her on the table and moved to the window. She could see into the courtyard, everyone moving with haste as people unpacked, moving men and supplies where they needed to be. Blood stained the stones where men lay, their wounds bleeding through their bandages. It was the aftermath of something Gwen had seen too many times, yet hoped never to see again.

She was disgusted with herself, with her weakness. In a way, she knew she could not be blamed, that those loyal to her and Arthur would see love for her husband and not weakness in her breakdown, but she could not afford to ignore those of the court who disapproved of their marriage, those who made her feel unworthy to wear her crown. Especially with Arthur missing.

She had had her moment, lapsing into selfish feeling, but she could not allow it to happen again. She would be as strong and unbendable as the swords she’d once helped her father forge. She would not forget her love for Arthur or her worry for him, but she would use it, use it for something useful.

With that in mind, she turned to face Leon and asked for his report.

Her old friend was hesitant and tactful in his words.

"Three more patrols have returned from the White Mountains, my lady. There is no sign of him."

"He must be somewhere."

"We have spoken to every villager, every man, woman, child, there has been no word."

Gwen quieted the spike of anxiety she felt, looked toward the window, holding her ring, and spoke with the conviction that she felt.

"He is out there."

"We will keep searching."

"He is alive, I know it, I can feel it.” She did not question the link of love she could feel between herself and Arthur. It had been her constant companion since the day they had kissed in her small house. She would never stop believing in it. She would hold to it until someone brought his body to her. Somehow though she'd always known that when it was finally severed, she would feel it. She turned to Leon, her tone all business. “Who else is still unaccounted for?"

"Gaius."

"He's not been seen?"

"Not since the battle."

Gwen stifled that worry as well.

“What of Merlin? Is he back yet?”

“No, my lady.”

She nodded again.

“What’s the status of our men?”

“We have enough knights to guard Camelot should there be an attack. There were many casualties, but until the final count is complete and every man looked after, we cannot be sure of the exact number. There are still five patrols out looking. As of this moment all manpower is needed to either man the walls or help with the wounded.”

“See to it, as I’m sure you have,” she said, her mind quickly calculating. “Don’t send the patrols just returned back out; let them help here where they are needed. But make sure there are at least five patrols looking for Arthur until we’ve found him.”

“Yes, my lady.” Leon turned to go, then came back. “Are you well?” he asked cautiously.

She forced a smile onto her face.

“Yes, Leon. I am sorry if I worried you.”

“You- you hold Camelot,” he said. “The people will follow you. The knights would never follow another outside of Arthur. We will look for him with our last breath, but we need you whole and well. In case…”

“I understand,” she said, touched and a little chastised. “I promise there will be no more fainting spells. I shall rule as befits a…a Queen.”

“I have never doubted it, my lady,” he said, bowing deep and leaving.

Gwen forced herself to sit down and eat all the food left for her by Sarah, and then she went to see what she could do to help and to gather the remnants of her command.

In the evening she met with the members of the council to update them on the progress of the cleanup and the search for Arthur. It was not a good meeting. Most of the members of the council had never supported her as Queen and they were even less enthusiastic about her now that it appeared Arthur was gone. Many of the lords tried to tactfully suggest her abdication and made slurs about the lack of an heir for Arthur's throne.

If now for a kind intervention from Geoffrey, Gwen was sure she would have dissolved into tears over their petty, venomous words. Leon had not been in attendance until late due to his overseeing of the men and the patrols. Upon his arrival the lords had obviously tried better to paint their words with flowery obeisance but Gwen knew Leon had seen through their seeming friendship to their dislike of their Queen. Leon had almost immediately suggested the meeting be adjourned and Gwen was eternally grateful to him.

Upon returning to her room and being undressed by Sarah Gwen had sat on the end of her too empty bed and wept far into the night, finally falling into an exhausted slumber.

***

A day passed and there was still no word from Arthur. Gwen stood at the window overlooking the courtyard, not able to give up hope, even still. Camelot’s men were healing, the list of the dead not as grievous as it could have been. They had all been saved, saved by that sorcerer, the one who had appeared from nowhere to smite the Saxons and ward off the dragon.

The one Gaius had said deserved their gratitude. She could not deny that. Yet there was something about that sorcerer, something she couldn’t put her finger on.

She was distracted from her thoughts when a horse galloped into the courtyard carrying a familiar figure and Gwen rushed to meet him, somehow knowing Gaius carried the news she sought most of all. When they met Gwaine was with him.

"Gaius."

"My lady."

"Tell me," she commanded.

"He's alive."

Gwen’s breath left her body in a sigh of relief and she took a second to feel the joy before Gwaine spoke up.

"Why isn't he with you?"

"He's wounded.” Gaius hesitated. “He wanted me to give you this, my lady."

Gaius held out a ring, a familiar image imprinted on it. Gwen took it in her fingers and it was cold, heavier than it looked. It was not the encouragement she had looked for. To her, it meant Arthur had given up hope, that he was leaving it all to her, that he thought he would never see her again.

"Where is he?" she asked, annoyed at the fear in her voice.

"There is a place where he may be saved. Merlin is taking him there as we speak."

It was but the work of a second to think that, of course, Merlin would be there, helping him, and thank goodness Merlin was safe.

"We must send the knights. Ready as many men as you can," she said, turning to Gwaine.

"No, my lady. Merlin can cope by himself," Gaius said.

"Merlin?"

She had all the faith in the world in Merlin’s loyalty to Arthur, but he was only one man, barely trained.

"You must trust him," Gaius said firmly.

"How can one man be as strong as an army?"

"Morgana's forces are still searching for Arthur. Two men traveling alone stand a much better chance of evading her. Especially if she has no idea where they're heading."

Gaius turned to Gwaine as he spoke and Gwen looked at him strangely.

“Gaius?” Gwaine questioned.

“Gwaine, I’m afraid I have some bad news. While Merlin was away he encountered Morgana and she confirmed to him that Eira was passing information to her. I’m sorry, but she’s a traitor.”

“No,” Gwaine said, recoiling. “That’s not true.”

“I’m sorry,” Gaius said, “but it was she who told Morgana of Arthur’s marching out to meet them.”

“Why would she?” Gwaine asked, looking as if Gaius had dealt him a physical blow.

“I don’t know.”

“Gwaine?” Gwen said, turning to him. “Gwaine, I’m sorry, but you know what I must do.”

Gwaine nodded, his face tight.

“Perhaps this might be turned to our advantage,” Gaius said slowly.

Gwen started to question what he meant and then closed her eyes as understanding hit her.

“Gaius, you are clever,” she said, then put her hand on Gwaine’s arm. “Gwaine, may I ask you to do something for me?”

“Anything,” Gwaine said, his voice raspy.

“Would you be willing to- I hate to ask, but Arthur’s life is at stake if Morgana finds him.”

“You want me to bait her with false information? Well, I’d say it’s my turn to play that particular game.”

“I’m sorry,” Gwen said, not liking the bitter cheer in his voice.

Gwaine gave what sounded like a forced laugh. 

“It’s not so unlikely now, is it?” He looked at her face and grimaced. “Enough with the long faces. We’ve a witch to confuse. Where do you want me to send her?”

After much discussion it was decided that Brinived was a good location and Gwaine went off to do his part, Gwen’s heart aching for him.

She had other things to occupy her time, the castle to oversee, the council to placate. By the end of a long meeting wherein she wanted to scream at least three times, she was exhausted. Many of the older men, those who had been around during Uther’s time as ruler were openly opposing her rule, refusing to accept Arthur’s bequeathing his kingdom to her. She had been backed by Leon, Gaius, and Geoffrey, and slowly they’d come around begrudgingly. In the end she’d had to stand there and remind them that she was already the ruler of Camelot by being Queen since there was no heir, and Arthur’s gesture was just that, a gesture. Unless they wanted her to invite Morgana to take the throne, they needed to accept that she was there for good.

When it was over she stood by the window contemplating, needing a moment to herself. So much had happened and she hadn’t had a chance to process yet.

There was something that was bothering her, something about the way Gaius had returned, Merlin’s sudden appearance at Arthur’s side, the way that sorcerer had looked so familiar. He had looked, no, he was, exactly the same as the old man who had admitted to planting poultices that supposedly enchanted her and Arthur.

She had a sudden inspiration and sent for Gaius. While she waited, she thought. 

That old man had always bothered her. Far from appearing sinister, he had puzzled her. What good did enchanting Arthur and her do? They were already in love. Had it been blind chance? She would say Morgana had somehow had something to do with his sudden appearance, but Morgana’s scheme had been foiled by the sorcerer showing up.

Almost like he’d meant to get caught, like he’d meant to take the blame off her, and free Arthur from Uther’s suspicion. It was all too neat. She’d always thought so. Even after the disastrous attempt to heal Uther had ended and Arthur’s hatred of the old man was sealed, she had never been able to shake the feeling that Dragoon the Great was somehow there to help them.

And Gaius had a connection to him, that was certain, not only from suggesting him to heal Uther, but from his words at the battle. There was really only one answer that made sense and it shamed her that she’d never put the pieces together before. It was like she was finally opening the door to a room she had always avoided.

Gaius entered the room and approached her.

"You called for me, my lady."

"I want to thank you, Gaius," she said, turning toward him.

"What for?"

"Unmasking Eira. I shall forever be in your debt. And Merlin's. Was it he that found Arthur?"

She was already sure that it was.

"He's a good servant."

Perhaps better than any of them had ever dreamed.

"He's always been there at Arthur's side,” she said leadingly, the light of discovery in her eyes.

"Indeed."

Gaius was a battlement of secrets, always had been, but she was determined to have the truth of this one.

"The sorcerer in the battle, you knew who he was."

"Yes."

"Do I know him?” He hesitated, but she pressed him, it was the only thing that was going to give her any rest. “Please, Gaius, answer me honestly."

"Yes,” Gaius admitted and she breathed a sigh of triumph. “He'll take good care of Arthur."

"Yes, I'm sure he will.” On that, Gwen could have no doubt. There were many questions in her mind, but there was one thing she was certain of and that was Merlin’s loyalty to Arthur. “I'm pleased," she said, trying to convey that.

Gaius bowed and left and she didn’t badger him for more, understanding his need to protect Merlin and not give any more information than was necessary.

There would be time later to ask questions, to explain the past, to feel the sting of not being trusted with his secret. Right now she only had the thought that Arthur was safer than she could have imagined. Merlin would die before he let anything happen to Arthur.

She wondered if Arthur knew now, certainly he hadn’t before, but would Merlin have revealed himself in the battle so openly if he hadn’t meant to tell Arthur? She couldn’t be sure, but she ached at the betrayal she knew Arthur would feel. She knew her husband inside and out and he would not be forgiving. He’d been hurt many times by people he had trusted and Merlin knew that as well as she did, so why had he waited so long to tell Arthur? She could guess why at the beginning, could well imagine the fear she was sure Merlin lived under. Having been put on trial for magic and sentenced to die more times than she could remember, she well knew that terror. And she could understand it. Arthur’s past did not render that ability to him as hers did.

There was also the fact that she had been privy to more of Merlin’s actions than most. While she could not say they had the same bond Merlin and Arthur shared, in a way, she knew Merlin better just as she knew Arthur in a way Merlin couldn’t. There was a freeness among the servants that could never be among the nobility. There were too many times that she and Merlin had had to go behind Arthur’s back where magic was concerned to save him. Yes, she could not say she was surprised, if she was, it was only at how long it had taken her to guess.

Now that the question was answered in her mind she returned to herself, feeling more assured of Arthur’s safety and determined to make it be even more secure. She did not envy the task Gwaine had been given, but hers was just as disagreeable to her. Never before had a person’s life rested on her decision so completely. When Gwen had ordered Sefa’s death she had not meant it, and had only planned to hold the girl’s father until Arthur was there to make the judgment himself. But now Arthur was far away, trusting in her to keep their Kingdom safe, and she would do what she had to.

“For the love of Camelot,” she whispered wryly to herself, feeling in her heart that it was more for the love of Arthur.

But she had a task set before her so she made ready for it with a grim purpose.


	4. There's Method in My Madness

Gwaine knew how he was viewed by the people around him. His knowledge was like an itching under his skin that exploded into inappropriate comments and a rebellious streak only just tolerated because of past deeds. He fought to get away from the picture people had of him, but he also tried to enforce it. He wasn’t sure which desire was the stronger most of the time.

His whole life had been one of haste, going from place to place, woman to woman, tavern to tavern, running from the past, or maybe escaping it. He’d never been bound to a single place or person and, for a long time, he'd thought he preferred it that way. Nobody had ever proved to him that they could be different than the pictures he held of them.

Nobody till Merlin.

Merlin. His first friend, a man Gwaine was fiercely protective of. Merlin had accepted Gwaine as he was, took the strength he offered, never hesitating to tease him, yet without a hint of judgment. All it took was Merlin’s cheeky grin and an afternoon making fun of Camelot’s nobility and Gwaine’s blackest mood could be lifted. Merlin was loyal to a man who treated him unfairly, was strong and supportive, willing to go to any length to protect a friend. Merlin was the smartest and most powerful man Gwaine knew, but he humbly chose obscurity. It was absolutely baffling to Gwaine, even still. He’d do anything for Merlin.

Merlin had led him to Arthur, a man who puzzled Gwaine exceedingly. Arthur was noble, arrogant to the core, yet willing to sacrifice himself for anyone, whose best friend was a servant, though he’d die before he’d admit it. Arthur was a mass of contradictions, sometimes so bent on tradition, such as with the ban on magic, and obedient to a father who had been a tyrant. Yet, he had married Gwen, as common born as they come, and lifted Lancelot, Elyan, and Percival up to the status of knights, thinking he’d elevated Gwaine as well. He had sacrificed himself to save his knights from Ismere.

Yes, Arthur confused Gwaine, but he knew that he would die for his King gladly.

And because of Arthur’s actions Gwaine had a place in Camelot, his own bedroom, filled with his own possessions. He had a place among a brotherhood, readymade companions who accepted him as one of their own. He had found a home, oddly enough. He was with people who he never wanted to leave.

Yet it had been hard to change his ways, to get used to it. He did it because he believed in Arthur, in the ideals of Camelot, but sometimes it galled him to be so disciplined, so regimented, to be so cosseted and fussed over. And that’s why he was a frequent visitor to the Rising Sun and why many a barmaid had known the pleasures of a night with him, but never the same one twice.

Not till Eira. There had been something about her that made him want to protect her, some kind of kinship between them that made him feel sorry for her. But she had been using him the entire time, no victim, but Morgana’s pawn. He wanted to laugh at himself for being a fool, but there was something deeper to the betrayal. He had told things to Eira, believing at last that he’d found a woman who might accept him for who he was and who would stay with him.

But it was not to be. Tonight he would play her as she had played him. In discussing the plan Gwaine felt exposed, like a disease out in the open. He tightly controlled his emotions as he always did when in pain, but he could not shake it off with a smile and smart remark as usual. This was too personal and his friends would know it for the façade that it was. In the end it was a benefit because his obvious struggle was a segue into his task. So he turned stone faced and let Eira think it was worry over Arthur that was bothering him. All too soon his information was planted.

Gwaine felt Eira slip out of the bed they’d been sharing and head out of the room. He waited a minute longer and then followed, slipping his chainmail over his head with practiced ease, and grabbing his sword.

He followed her silently, walking through the halls he knew very well by now. He’d lived there for six years and had had, on many an occasion, the need to find the quickest ways to navigate them.

He met up with Gwen and her guards as planned and they continued together.

As suspected Eira had been on her way to send a message to Morgana. The bird had only just flown off when he made his presence known.

"Eira."

She started guiltily and then tried to cover it up.

"I was just…"

"Sending word to Morgana."

"No.” Eira looked around frantically, spotting Gwen coming out of the shadows. “My lady, I wouldn't do that, I wouldn't betray you or the King."

"And you didn't. You can go to your death safe in that knowledge. Your note will send your mistress riding for Brinived and all the while the King will be traveling in the opposite direction."

Gwen’s face was impassive, her tone without sympathy. Gwaine could well imagine that anyone conspiring against Arthur would get no kindness from her. Still, he felt…well, he didn’t know what he felt and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

"Gwaine,” Eira called as the guards took her away. Her cries grew more frantic, but he didn’t move a muscle. He didn’t know what would happen if he did. “Gwaine, please!"

He’d chosen his loyalties long ago and he certainly wasn’t going to change them for the life of a woman who had used him and abused his trust in her.

Her voice grew faint as she was carried to the dungeons. Gwen came over to him and put her hand on his arm.

“You don’t have to pretend, you know,” she said quietly. “I would understand if you resented me just a little bit.”

“Wouldn’t do to start gushing now,” he said, with a twist to his mouth. “I might not stop and then where would we be?”

“Probably somewhere healthier for you,” she said somewhat sternly and then shook her head. “I am sorry. I can’t really say that to someone when my own emotions are so volatile right now.”

“I always said you were meant for a great man, pity you chose Arthur,” he said lightly.

She smiled at him, a genuine smile.

“Still, if and when you do wish to speak to someone, I am available.”

“I appreciate that, my lady,” he said. “Between you and Merlin I know I’ve got overly emotional friends.”

She made a face at him and then left. Gwaine stood there for a moment or two before he left and went back to his room.

He didn’t sleep that night, simply took off his chainmail and lay on his bed or stared out his window at the gallows prepared in the early morning light. He couldn’t wholly blame Eira, not really. It wasn’t like she knew him or his past that well, for all the secrets he’d entrusted her with. She had no personal grudges against him. But her mistress, that was another matter. Morgana had all the hatred in the world for him, because of what he represented, someone loyal to Arthur.

It was her doing. Eira might have been a good person once, but Morgana had twisted her, had done enough evil that Gwaine could never forgive her. Slowly, the beginnings of an idea sprouted in his mind. He didn’t give full heed to it for awhile, sure that Gwen and Leon would disapprove.

But Gwaine couldn’t shake it. He wasn’t sure where it had come from, it was probably one of his less than wise plans, but by the time the sun had fully risen, Gwaine had made his decision.

He didn’t go to the execution, not really. He didn’t want Eira to see him there and he didn’t bother to analyze why. Instead he stood inside, looking out of the window. Gwen stood up high above the courtyard, looking far more alone than he could remember. Leon stood beside her, a faithful knight, but it was ultimately Gwen who made the final motion, taking Eira’s life from her.

Gwen stood resolute, not an inch of remorse in her face, but he could see the way her hand shook, the pinch in her eyes, the desire to not have to do this, to make these kinds of decisions.

Eira was not hysterical now; she simply stood quietly and waited. Gwaine made sure he watched, never looking away as the lever was pulled and the hushed thud echoed throughout the quiet morning. Eira’s body hung lifeless, limp, and harmless. Gwaine swallowed hard and anger against Morgana burned in his heart.

Percival came up behind him and put his hand on Gwaine’s shoulder. Between them had always existed an odd kind of friendship. They’d become knights at the same time and were bound through that encounter, but they couldn’t have been more different. Gwaine was loud and raucous, Percival quiet and solid. They had their own strengths and weaknesses, but they’d grown closer since Elyan’s death, a natural drawing together that couldn’t happen with Arthur or Leon since they were in leadership above them. Gwaine would say that, apart from Merlin, he was closer to Percival than any other person in Camelot. Then Gwaine would laugh and make an inappropriate comment causing Percival to swat at him with his huge muscles.

But there was a deeper understanding between them as well. Gwaine knew exactly the kind of slaughter Percival’s family had undergone and what Percival would do to end Morgana’s reign of tyranny.

"You know what you said you'd do if you ever found Morgana?” Gwaine paused. “Well, we have a good idea where she'll be heading."

And there the idea was out in the open. He could not take back the words. He looked up at Percival, who simply nodded, and didn’t try to talk Gwaine out of it. Probably the ire of injustice was too deep within Percival to think clearly either. Well, wise or foolish, they would go together.

They didn’t tell anyone where they were going and that was really the first time Gwaine had disobeyed a direct order or broken the code he’d sworn to. He was reckless often, defiant and disrespectful, but he’d always followed the good leadership provided to him and respected Arthur’s and Leon’s decisions.

They rode fast, not speaking, not needing to really. They were bound together with a dread purpose and Gwaine didn’t want to explore his feelings about it or hear about Percival’s. He simply wanted the deed done.

They slowed when they neared their destination, years of training together informing them as to what the other’s role would be.

Morgana’s men were easy to deal with. The lady herself was a slightly more difficult problem, but one Gwaine relished tackling. She smiled insolently at him when he snuck up behind her, not seeing Percival jump out on top of her, driving his sword home into her flesh.

Gwaine just wished he was the one twisting it.

But she was not so easily caught and her magic sent them both flying. Gwaine hit the ground hard, feeling every jolt twice over through his armor. His vision was foggy as he looked up to see her standing over him, smile cynical and condescending.

"Did you really think you could outwit me?"

His vision faded away.

***

Gwaine’s eyes blinked open and he saw Morgana standing in front of him, holding a carved wooden box.

He was on his knees, hands tied to trees on either side of him. His sword was lying just out of his reach, probably placed there on purpose to torture him, he thought. 

"Tell me where the King is.”

"I'd rather die," he said, smiling. 

He always smiled at Morgana, he’d never known her really as anything other than evil, and he did not have the compunctions that Merlin, Arthur, and Gwen did. So he did not feel any reason not to be pleasant and frank and his usual, wonderful self.

"Well, you shall have your wish, once you've told me.” She opened the box and a serpent head slithered over the side. Gwaine had heard the description from Elyan and he was suddenly wary. “Not even you, Sir Knight, can resist the charms of the Nathair."

Well, that just made everything suddenly very bad.

Still, Gwaine had to smile. He’d once told Merlin he’d never met a noble worth dying for. He’d put that theory to the test for many years. Now he was finally going to die for Arthur. It was perfect in a way.

Morgana’s cruel smile was the last thing he remembered for some time outside of the pain. It was far beyond anything he’d ever experienced before. The little bites were nothing, but the venom they introduced into his system made Gwaine buck backwards, bending his head to the ground and twisting his arms, agonizingly held by the ropes.

It was worse than being tortured because at least there he would have the sense of being in control of his own mind, but each time the snake left its mark on Gwaine he felt less and less in control, unable to direct even his own thoughts. His very body was a conductor of pain, slamming messages home into his brain and he distantly realized the horrible screaming sounds he could hear were coming from his own mouth.

Soon he could hear himself gasping out things he’d never told anyone, perhaps a subconscious desire to hide the true information, but involuntary on his part nonetheless. With every word the venom seemed to cloud his mind more, seeking, probing for what it wanted. It was something slimy and dark, worming its way through his head, tearing apart his conscious mind, and wracking his body with its evil.

Finally, finally when it seemed there was no hidden place left in him he could hear his own mouth speaking the words.

“He’s gone to Avalon.”

“My thanks,” Morgana said somewhere above him, then hissed words he didn’t understand.

Immediately the sense of another presence in his body left and he simply felt weak, his blood was on fire, and he couldn’t hold his head up. He did not know how long he sat there but it felt like a lifetime, white hot bursts of pain stabbing behind his eyelids and traveling down his entire body to his feet.

Then he felt something, blessedly cool hands on either side of his face. He opened his eyes, the very effort as hard a thing as he had ever done, and saw it was Percival, kneeling in front of him.

"She's riding for Avalon," he said, his words barely above a whisper.

"Gwaine."

"I failed," he said, trying to focus on something other than the pain. 

"No, you haven't,” Percival said strongly.

“You-you have to go,” he said. “Warn Arthur. Merlin.”

“I have to get you help or you could die,” Percival argued. “What happened?”

“Box. Snakes. Elyan snakes,” Gwaine said, fighting to stay conscious.

Percival’s face paled. He knew the story as they all did.

“I will get you to Gaius,” Percival said, grabbing a dagger from his belt and slicing the ropes that held Gwaine bound. 

He found himself looking at the dagger and trying to puzzle it out. It looked wrong, like a Saxon’s blade. Why did Percival have a Saxon’s blade? Then he realized there was something else wrong.

“No,” he said finally, remembering. “No, you must go. Go to Avalon.”

“But you’ll-"

“Worth it,” Gwaine said, holding Percival’s gaze.

The other man’s eyes hardened and he lifted Gwaine in his arms with more ease than Gwaine felt a man in armor should yield.

“You’re coming too,” Percival said firmly. “Arthur first, then we get you home.”

“Stupid…” Gwaine said, words trailing off.

This was the end. Nothing Gaius did would work unless it was immediate. Gwaine had no time. He would make Percival, the idiot, leave him here. Gwaine wanted to die for Arthur, really, he did. But it didn’t matter; bringing him along or not would not stop the inevitable, he felt. So long as Percival was going for Arthur, that was all that mattered.

He was lost in a fuzzy nightmare now. Snakes appeared in his vision even when his eyes were closed, their eyes yellow. Each bite on his body felt like a brand, burning inside and out. Somehow, he knew the venom was working its way through his body, destroying all in his path. 

But the next time he opened his eyes he was flung on the front of a horse, the forest rushing by him, making him feel sick. And he was sick, his stomach emptying itself without his permission, though he didn’t really have control over anything at the moment.

His ride went on for longer than he cared to remember until suddenly they were at the shores of a lake and he was lowered to the ground. His head felt heavy and there were black spots every time he opened his eyes, which was ridiculously hard to do.

Percival was muttering above him somewhere.

“W-what’s your problem, p-precio-?” he asked.

“I don’t see them anywhere,” Percival said. “But I don’t see Morgana anywhere either. Should I go to the island? I don’t want to leave you here alone.”

“Can take care of m-myse…” Gwaine said, blacking out again.

He woke again to a sudden shout of joy coming from Percival. Gwaine struggled to lift his head and saw a boat appearing out of the fog. The two figures on it were undoubtedly Arthur and Merlin and Gwaine let a grim smile of triumph play around his lips. Or at least, he tried to. Clearly Morgana had failed in her mission to kill Arthur.

“Sire,” Percival said, splashing into the shallows and clasping arms with Arthur. “You’re alive.”

“Apparently,” Arthur said, sounding weary. “How fares Camelot?”

“Camelot is well, Sire. The Queen is handling everything with Leon at her side. We only despaired for you.”

“Well, despair no longer,” Arthur said, sounding much more tense than a man who had been saved from death should be.

“Gwaine!” Merlin said, running past Arthur and Percival and falling to his knees by Gwaine.

“Don’t know i-if you’re…in time,” Gwaine said. “Time for magic.”

Merlin looked astonished and then worried and Gwaine cursed his slip, but he didn’t think anybody else had heard. Had they? Everything was so murky. He hadn’t meant to out Merlin. He’d known for years now, waiting for Merlin to feel ready to tell him, but he guessed all it took was a little death to make him give up everybody’s secrets.

“I-it’s okay,” Merlin said. “Arthur knows. I just wasn’t aware you did.”

“Can’t put anything p-past…me,” Gwaine said.

Merlin smiled.

“It was the table in the tavern when we first met, wasn’t it? I would expect you to see everything that goes on in a tavern.”

Gwaine laughed, choking on his air. Merlin looked past him to Arthur and Percival approaching, an unspoken question and pleading on his face.

“Well, go on then.” Arthur’s voice sounded high and more important than he really was. “Do you really think I’m such a hypocrite as all that, Merlin?”

Merlin looked like he wanted to say something, but a gurgling in Gwaine’s throat made him forget to watch and the next thing he knew Merlin was turning back to Gwaine. Merlin's eyes flashed gold and he started speaking words Gwaine couldn’t understand, or maybe that was the snake venom.

Either way, he started to convulse as he felt light and power touch him, dragging all the sickness through the bites and restoring the ragged edges of his wounds. It was painful, but like when a wound was healing, rather than when it was just received. Trust Merlin to have all this power and look like he was barely strong enough to lift Arthur’s armor.

Which was Gwaine's last conscious thought before he slipped away into the black again.


	5. You Lost Your Mind in the Sound

Arthur’s memories of the last few days were a bit fuzzy. He could recall Merlin telling him more about his destiny, about serving Arthur with pride. It didn’t even make sense to Arthur, but it seemed to make sense to Merlin, and whatever sense it made, it had made Arthur feel better. He’d still felt hurt, still felt betrayed, still felt anger far beyond what he normally felt, but he had been too far gone into pain to care about those things. It had just been nice to hear Merlin telling him. 

The last thing Arthur clearly remembered was that they were on the horses and riding, Merlin had smiled at him and it had all been all right there for a moment. But after that Arthur remembered flashes only, a jolt in his chest, deep, unearthly words, a woman screaming, the feel of wind rushing past him, a wetness in the air, bright lights, then a sense of invasion in his body. It had hurt, but it had felt like a good hurt, like when a wound was cleansed. Through it all he’d had a strange sense of closeness, like Merlin was in his thoughts, there with Arthur the whole time he’d been hurting. Then it was over and he’d opened his eyes just as Merlin had been changing back from an older man to a younger one and extending a hand to help him up.

Arthur couldn’t really describe how he’d felt after that. He’d felt younger, renewed, like every part of his body had been made whole. It wasn’t just his wound that had healed, it was almost as if every scar he’d ever received, every injury, all the aching bones from old breaks, were completely and utterly made new. He still had his scars, he’d checked the ones he could currently reach, but he didn’t feel like they were there anymore. It was worrisome to him. He’d felt uncomfortable about having accepted such a magical gift, wondering what it meant, though it wasn’t like he’d had too much of a choice in the matter.

Merlin hadn’t said much, just asked him how he felt, turning as skittish as a rabbit now that Arthur was back to being able to hit him over the head or something like that. Merlin's reaction had just served to confuse Arthur more because he knew now that Merlin was an almighty sorcerer who could kill Arthur with his little pinky and yet the idiot still seemed to think Arthur had the power of life and death over him. It was infuriating because it was Arthur who was supposed to be feeling afraid and nervous now that the truth was out. Trust Merlin to never do anything in the right way.

They’d crossed the lake in silence and, once off the island, some of Arthur’s jittery feelings left him. He supposed the island that had felt so eerie to him was probably as natural as breathing to Merlin. Come to think of it, every time they’d been somewhere magical, somewhere with links to sorcery, Merlin had either been completely relaxed or hyper aware of everything. The thought just made Arthur angry again so he’d gritted his teeth and said nothing.

On the other shore was a welcome sight. Someone other than Merlin. Arthur would have welcomed anyone but Morgana at that point. He simply wanted a place where he could be alone and think without Merlin’s face hovering into view or a mortal injury clouding his thoughts. Was that too much to ask? 

It was one of his knights judging by the chainmail, Percival by the height.

“Sire,” Percival said, splashing into the shallows and clasping arms with Arthur. “You’re alive.”

“Apparently,” Arthur said, feeling weary beyond all measure. “How fares Camelot?”

“Camelot is well, Sire. The Queen is handling everything with Leon at her side. We only despaired for you.”

“Well, despair no longer,” Arthur said, feeling that the only good thing about all of this was that he got to go see Guinevere now.

“Gwaine!” Merlin said, running past Arthur to where a prone form was lying on the ground.

They had a whispered conversation while Arthur turned to Percival.

“What happened?”

“Morgana,” Percival said, tight-lipped, and Arthur guessed there was a little more to that story, but he didn’t really have time to think about it because Merlin was turning to him, a limp look of pleading on his face and Arthur felt a new surge of irritation.

“Well, go on then. Do you really think I’m such a hypocrite as all that, Merlin?”

Arthur wasn’t sure he wanted the responsibility of being Merlin’s conscience or whatever the hell it was Merlin always seemed to need permission from him for now. If this was Merlin’s way of apologizing, Arthur didn’t like it. He wanted things to go back to the way they were, or if they couldn’t, for Merlin to start acting like Arthur expected sorcerers to act. As it was, he wasn’t getting either thing.

But he was fascinated because watching Merlin heal Gwaine was like nothing Arthur had ever seen before. Not being a part of it himself, and being fully conscious, really helped him see the full extent of what Merlin’s powers were. It was incredible. Merlin drew himself up, foreign words dripping from his tongue like they were native to him, golden light flashing in his eyes. There was no other physical sign that he was doing anything, but somehow Arthur could feel the power flowing from Merlin. It was humbling in a way to think that the man who stood there with so much under his control had put himself at Arthur’s beck and call for ten years.

Gwaine convulsed and then black liquid seemed to seep out of his skin, flowing out of his armor to pool on the ground in a foul looking pool. Percival was standing next to Arthur, utterly dumbfounded, gaping at Merlin, hand pulling out his sword. Arthur took pity on him.

“Merlin has magic. He healed me, now he’s healing Gwaine. There is nothing to fear.”

“Sire?” Percival said, looking at him in confusion. 

Arthur couldn’t blame him, he felt like that himself, but he needed to sort things out himself before he started helping his knights know how to feel about this new development in their lives.

“We’ll explain later,” he said. “For now I’d like to get back to Camelot and see my wife.”

Percival nodded his head and went back to staring. Gwaine was peaceful now, his breathing normal. He appeared to be sleeping. Arthur let his shoulders slump a little bit in relief. He’d lost too many of his knights, his friends, to watch one more slip away from him. Gwaine may have been one of the most annoying people Arthur had ever met, second only to Merlin, but Gwaine had also saved Arthur’s life, fought at his side, and proven his worth ten times over.

Merlin stood up and swayed a little bit. Arthur moved to catch him before he thought. Merlin glanced up at him, seeming surprised, but grateful.

“Touch out of character there, aren’t you, my lord?” he asked, his skin a bit gray.

“Can’t very well have you faint like a woman after doing something as simple as healing two people on the brink of death,” Arthur retorted, not wanting to examine it any further than that.

Merlin scowled at him, but sat down and took the water skin handed to him by a silent, watchful Percival.

“You know all of you would have been poisoned to death on our search for the dragon egg if it hadn’t been for me,” he muttered.

Percival’s eyes went wide and then he laughed, all the tension gone from his shoulders.

“And here I just thought it was your cooking that did it,” he said, hitting Merlin’s shoulder causing the other man to wince and rub at it.

Arthur couldn’t believe his eyes. Percival had moments ago found out that Merlin was not who he said he was and now he just laughed like it was nothing. Arthur couldn’t fathom it. Where was the distrust, the fear, the anger that Arthur himself kept feeling no matter what happened?

“Can he travel?” he asked curtly, interrupting and pointing to Gwaine.

Merlin’s smile faded and he nodded. 

“We’ve only the one horse,” Percival said.

“And I’m pretty sure Morgana took out all her frustration on ours,” Merlin said. "Not that it matters since they were far off anyway."

“Then we’d best put Gwaine on the horse and the rest of us can walk,” Arthur said. “Can you travel, Merlin?”

He kept his tone business-like, formal, not wanting to get into any conversations especially with Percival there. Anything that needed to be said would be said between him and Merlin alone, once Arthur finally had the chance to wrap his head around the events of the last few days.

“Yes, Sire,” Merlin said, already helping Gwaine up and giving him to Percival, who carried the prone form to the horse with ease, giving Arthur and Merlin curious looks.

“How is he?” Percival asked Merlin anxiously once they got going.

“He’ll live,” Merlin said, looking a little anxious himself. “But healing spells aren’t my strongest suit and I’d already spent a lot of energy healing Arthur. I was only able to force the venom out and heal the largest of the internal injuries. Once I’ve rested I can do some more maybe, but sleep is really the best thing for him.”

“What happened?” Arthur asked, wanting to focus on anything but Merlin right now.

“Morgana captured us,” Percival said slowly. “She tied me up and interrogated Gwaine using the Nathair. Like Elyan.”

“Where does she keep getting them?” Merlin said in exasperation, almost to himself. “I swear her affinity for snakes is the most disturbing thing about her. No one’s seen any of these magical creatures for years and Morgana becomes High Priestess and they just start breeding like rabbits.”

Arthur almost wanted to laugh, but he didn’t.

“So, you’re a sorcerer?” Percival asked gingerly, glancing at Arthur.

Arthur didn’t say anything. He didn’t want to. He didn’t know why people kept looking at him like he was about to explode. And if Percival wanted to ask questions, well, they were probably questions Arthur himself wanted to ask but refused to.

“Yeah. A warlock,” Merlin said, also looking at Arthur.

What was the matter with everybody? Did they really view him like some sort of timed explosion, just waiting for the right trigger to explode?

“There’s a difference?” asked Percival.

“Well, probably not,” Merlin said, shrugging. “It’s what Kilgharrah always calls me; I guess that’s what I’ve gotten used to thinking of myself as.”

“Kilgharrah?”

Merlin winced like he hadn’t meant to mention it. Great, more secrets. Just what Arthur needed.

“I’ll explain later. Basically, I was born with magic.”

“That’s impossible,” Arthur cut in, unable to stop himself.

“That’s me,” Merlin said with a faint attempt at sounding jaunty. “Impossible. But it’s the truth, Arthur. I didn’t choose to be this way. Like I told you before, I was given a gift and a destiny. For you.”

Arthur looked at him for a long moment and kept walking, trying to take it all in.

“Don’t let me stop your conversation,” he finally said.

Merlin’s face fell, but he glanced back over to Percival who rose to the occasion manfully.

“You never studied?” he asked.

“No, magic comes as naturally to me as breathing. I was moving objects around before I could walk. I only learned actual spells after I came to Camelot. At first I thought I’d come to the wrong place, but then I quickly came to see how much Arthur needed me.” Arthur snorted but didn’t say anything. Merlin went on, as if encouraged. “Saved his life twice the first week I was there.”

“Once,” Arthur said, unable to stop himself.

“Do you really think those snakes came alive on Valiant’s shield all by themselves?” Merlin asked.

Arthur’s head shot over to Merlin and then he glared for a long while. Talking to Merlin would just encourage him and Arthur didn’t want to get into a long conversation about the past ten years and how nothing had actually happened the way he thought it had. It was just a reminder that he couldn’t trust the infuriating oaf walking beside him.

Camelot was not far and they only stopped for the night because Merlin said Gwaine needed rest and warmth. Merlin gathered firewood and then started a fire without even looking at the wood. Arthur felt a chill just thinking about it. Percival looked spooked again and it was a long night of awkward silence broken only by occasional snoring from Gwaine. Arthur never slept though he thought that Percival eventually dropped off when his turn at watch was over.

In the morning Merlin pronounced Gwaine much better and himself completely restored.

“Do you want me…to try healing him some more?” he asked hesitantly.

“Will it do him harm not to?” Arthur asked.

“No,” Merlin said, shaking his head. “It would just speed up the process. Gaius could well take over from here or any healer.”

“Then let’s press on,” Arthur said. “I’d like to get back and reassure everyone we’re not all dead.”

Percival looked up guiltily at that and Arthur made a mental note to find out exactly what he and Gwaine had been doing when they ran into Morgana. There were so many things Arthur needed to do. He had every confidence in Guinevere’s ability to put Camelot back together after the battle, but since he was alive, those responsibilities ultimately fell on his shoulders. There was the supplies situation, the injured men, the patrol and guard duties, the running of the palace, the meetings with the council, the training of the knights, and the preparations for whatever revenge Morgana was going to seek. All of that plus dealing with Merlin’s secret made him wish he could go hide somewhere for a very long time.

They reached Camelot not long afterward with no incidents for which Arthur was grateful. A call sounded from the guards on the gate when they entered and Arthur knew they would be expected. Horses were brought for them when it was seen they only had the one and the people crowded the streets cheering for their King’s return. Arthur waved, acknowledging them as cheerfully as he could. It was hard when he was so mentally weary. They made their way as fast as possible up the town into the citadel.

Arthur truly smiled for the first time since the battle when he saw Guinevere running toward him down the steps. He jumped off his horse and met her halfway, colliding in a hug big enough that his momentum swept her off her feet for a second or two. He didn’t care that half of Camelot was watching them; he simply needed to feel her again.

“I’d lost you,” she said, muffled against his chest, and he looked down at her, saddened to see tears on her face.

“You will always have me,” he promised. “No matter how long I am gone.”

“I’m not quite sure that makes sense,” she said, laughing slightly, but she kissed him then, and he didn’t think anything further.

It was not a long embrace because there were other things to think of, but Arthur had needed it more than anything. Guinevere turned to Merlin and hugged him almost as tightly as Arthur.

“I need to breathe, Gwen,” Merlin said, looking embarrassed.

“Thank you,” she said so significantly that Arthur and Merlin looked at her in confusion. 

Arthur blinked and put the confusion away because soon he’d have to tell Guinevere about Merlin’s deception and then it wouldn’t matter.

“Merlin!” called Gaius, pushing his way through the knights, all trying to reach their King.

Merlin’s face burst into a smile so large Arthur thought it would split off his face.

“I did it!” he called to Gaius and Arthur rolled his eyes.

“I’m proud of you,” Gaius said, giving him a hug.

The courtyard was turning into a reunion melee and Arthur wanted to get inside as soon as possible. Gwaine still needed medical attention.

“Gaius, your skills as a physician would be most appreciated,” he said briskly. 

Gaius nodded and directed Percival, who was carrying Gwaine, up the steps to his rooms. Merlin made to follow them and then turned to Arthur.

“C-can I go?” he asked hesitantly. “Do you want to…talk?”

Arthur put his hands to his face and made a split second decision. He’d be fooling himself if he kept on acting like Merlin was dangerous to them all. It was a personal betrayal he was feeling, not something that put Camelot in danger.

“I don’t have time for dissecting my feelings on the matter even if you do,” Arthur said curtly. “I need to see to Camelot. After you’ve helped Gaius, report to the throne room.”

Merlin’s face paled and he nodded, turning away.

“Arthur?” Guinevere asked, looking worried.

“Merlin!” Arthur called in exasperation. “It’s not a trial, you idiot. I just need an explanation and that’s where I’m likely to be for the next few hours.”

“I-I knew that,” Merlin said, a faint smirk on his face before he hurried away.

“Arthur, what is going on?” Guinevere asked him. “Obviously the two of you are fighting and there’s only one thing I can imagine it’s about.”

Arthur’s heart sank.

“Did you know?” he asked her, not wanting to hear the answer if it was yes.

“No,” she said gently, taking his hand and walking with him up the steps. “Gaius just told me. Do not think Merlin would have told me and not told you.”

“He didn’t tell either of us,” Arthur snapped. “How is that supposed to make me feel? What am I supposed to think about that? That even my own servants don’t trust me? That everyone thinks I’m a bloodthirsty tyrant? That no matter how much I trusted him, he obviously didn’t trust me?”

She opened her mouth to answer him but they were interrupted by a swarm of councilors and guards and people wanting his attention and the only thing that kept his sanity was her firm grip on his hand while he answered questions, gave orders, listened to reports, and promised to meet the council in half an hour.

Alone in their room, he slammed the doors and then slid down them to sit on the floor with his head in his hands.

“I feel lost without him,” Arthur said, finally admitting what he’d been avoiding since he’d found out.

Slowly he felt her warm arms circle round him and he leaned into them in relief.

“He is your closest friend,” she said soothingly.

“How can he be when he was hiding this from me?” he asked, feeling tears rising in his eyes when he didn’t want them to.

“We’ll just have to ask him,” she said. “I have questions of my own, believe me.”

And there she was, his Queen, always understanding, always knowing what to say. Arthur gripped her strength and held on it, needing to know he wasn’t the only one who felt this way, who felt betrayed, who wanted to know why. He held onto her for a few precious moments before he felt her gently tug on his upper body, getting him to rise.

He started to question why, but she put a finger to his lips and led him to the inner part of their room. She started to undo his armor, unbuckling his sword and laying it on the table. Her deft fingers loosened all the clasps faster than Merlin’s ever had, not saying a word. Arthur watched her, the breath leaving his body slowly. She was graceful, her movements confident. His armor joined his sword on the table, then she eased the chainmail over his chest. Her only pause was when she saw how bloodied his shirt was underneath it, but then she moved on, taking off the shirt and putting it with the other unclean clothes. Gently she pushed him backwards till he was sitting on the bed.

He felt dirty and unwashed sitting there while she practically glowed in front of him, regal in purple and gold, her hair hanging down her back in long curls. She knelt in front of him, pulling off his boots and socks, placing them neatly to the side before rising and disappearing into the other room and reappearing with a bowl and towel in her hands.

He started to speak again, but she hushed him with a look and carefully began to wash his body, her hands skimming over his skin with tenderness and strength. She bit her lip when she reached the part of his side where Mordred’s sword had pierced him. He looked at it himself for the first time. There was nothing but a scar there now, old and faded, yet bright white, Arthur guessed it would never fade. Once she washed all the dried blood off, the scar stood out in contrast to his already pale skin.

She placed her hand over it and he placed his hand over hers, and they were there for some minutes, listening to each other breathing. She put her forehead against his and then straightened, leaving again, returning with a clean shirt and pair of breeches.

“We’ll get you a proper bath after,” she promised him and he’d missed the sound of her voice.

“Will you be joining me?” he asked, trying to lighten the mood, but her eyes darkened and she kissed him hard.

“Always,” she said, before leaving again and letting him dress himself the rest of the way.

Arthur swallowed hard and took a few deep breaths, trying to clear his head again, but this time for an entirely different reason.

When he was ready again he found her waiting for him and they walked arm in arm to the council.

She sat by Arthur as Leon greeted him, relief evident in the knight’s eyes. Percival, Gaius, and Merlin were absent, presumably still attending to Gwaine, but all of Arthur’s other trusted advisors were there, as well as the long standing members of the council.

Arthur didn’t have time to listen to tedious, drawn out complaints, so he started the meeting with a simple speech.

“I appreciate you all may have questions or concerns, but I have fought a hard battle and need some rest and time to review everything that has happened in my absence. I am confident in any decision the Queen may have made while I was away. Please prepare reports on anything you think may need to come to my direct attention. In the meantime, I want scouts and patrols on all our borders to watch for any attack made by Morgana’s men. I want the walls re-manned and a full disclosure on our food supplies. Please send all funeral arrangements to me as well. Now, I will hear questions on any immediate matters, but only if they are immediate.” Arthur sat down and nobody moved. Arthur nodded; satisfied he had deterred them from their usual stream of complaints. “Thank you for your time and I look forward to hearing from you later. You are dismissed; Leon, stay a moment.”

They all filed out, Leon lingering behind along with Guinevere.

“I’m glad to see you, Sire,” Leon said. 

Arthur smiled and pulled the man in for a brief hug. 

“I’m glad as well. It was a close one. Thank you for your leadership.”

“It’s what I can do,” Leon said. “Though it was the Queen who did most of it.”

“You’re being too modest, Leon,” Guinevere said wryly. “You’re not the one who had to be carried home.”

“What happened?” Arthur asked, voice rising.

“I fainted, Arthur,” she said. “No wounds, just lack of sleep. I’ve slept, I’ve rested, I’ve eaten, I’m fine.”

He took her hand in his and looked her up and down. She certainly looked fine, but he decided to worry a little bit and make sure she took it easy for the next few days.

“I’ll take your word for it,” he said, eying her suspiciously and she made a face at him. “Now, Leon, what don’t I know?”

“There’s one patrol we haven’t heard back from,” Leon said. “They went out looking for you three days ago and I haven’t received any word. East of the White Mountains was their last known position. The Saxons were heavy in that area since it was supposed to be where you were.”

“Are we secure enough here to be able to send another to look for them?” Arthur asked.

“I believe so,” Leon replied. “Now that you’re back we’ve sent riders to all the other search parties, so they’ll be on their way home.”

“Then do it,” Arthur said. “I don’t want any more men dying on my account. I am sure Morgana will plan something since losing the battle and not being able to watch me die. The last I heard of her, she was severely unhinged.”

“We will keep a close eye,” Leon said.

“There is another thing that happened in your absence,” Guinevere said, her normally placid expression strained.

And Arthur listened to hers and Leon’s explanation of Eira’s treachery and subsequent execution. He had only just time to feel how hard it must have been for her when the door creaked open and Merlin stuck his head in, looking like a naughty child about to get reprimanded for stealing sweets. Or an illegal sorcerer about to get his head chopped off for crimes of treason.

“Merlin!” Leon said, striding forward. “You’re the hero of the hour it would seem.”

“That remains to be seen,” Arthur muttered under his breath.

“It wasn’t anything,” Merlin said and Arthur had to wonder if Merlin’s modesty had only ever been a way to cover up a worse crime than pride.

“I’m anxious to hear your story,” Leon said, “but I have duties to perform at the moment.”

“Merlin and I have things to discuss anyway,” Arthur said. 

Leon nodded and made his exit. Guinevere looked at Arthur and studied him for a moment.

“I shall be going as well,” she said. Arthur didn’t argue. She knew he didn’t care if she was there and she obviously thought they needed to be alone for this, whatever it was going to be. “I am anxious to see how Gwaine is getting along.”

“He’s fine,” Merlin assured her. 

“I am also anxious to speak with you when we can,” she told Merlin, squeezing his arm in passing.

Merlin simply nodded, his eyes on Arthur, watching him intently.

Then they were alone. The two of them. As they had been countless times before. Only now Arthur didn’t know what to say.

Merlin fidgeted, moving from one foot to the other, eyes roaming everywhere in the hall, and Arthur sighed.

“I want an explanation,” he said simply. “Tell me why. Just tell me…everything. Only then will I be able to decide anything, to know how to go about any of this.”

He sat down and gestured for Merlin to do the same. Merlin sat down; face set now that Arthur had spoken.

“Okay. I have practiced magic since the day I was born, certainly since I came to Camelot. I’ve used it only to do what I thought was right, only to protect you. I lied because it was necessary. I’m sorry. It wasn’t because I didn’t trust you. Not really.”

“What does that even mean, Merlin?” Arthur asked, throwing his hands up. “Stop being vague. Give me details.”

“Magic is who I am,” Merlin said, bracing his hands on the table and looking Arthur in the eye. “I can’t help it. But it was outlawed. That’s like saying I shouldn’t exist, that I’m evil and wrong simply for being born. It hurts, Arthur, it hurts a lot, and I lived here in fear. My mother sent me to Camelot because she was afraid I would come to harm in Ealdor. She knew Gaius could help me. So I came. On my first day a man was executed for doing magic. Five minutes later Gaius fell and I saved his life with magic. Tell me, what was I supposed to do but hide it? Gaius practically exploded with fear when he learned that I had magic. He made me promise not to use it, lectured and scolded and reminded me every day.”

“But you used it anyway,” Arthur said. “Why would you stay in Camelot when you found out it was even more dangerous than Ealdor?”

Merlin laughed and looked at Arthur in exasperation.

“You, you clotpole. I already told you I have a destiny. I have tried to run from it before, believe me, but I can’t. My destiny is to serve you. And that’s all I want to do.”

“I don’t suppose you’ve got a divine decree or something you could show me?” Arthur asked. “It’s a little bit weird to have someone tell you they were born to polish your armor. A little George actually.”

“Promise me you won’t go off on a tangent about this,” Merlin said, “but I suppose you should also know I’m a Dragonlord.”

“What?”

Arthur was pretty sure his jaw dropped to the floor and he hazily wondered how many other surprises this conversation would have in store for him. Apparently just admitting to sorcery didn’t really cover all the secrets when it came to Merlin.

“I just am, okay? I’ll tell you why and how later, just go with it.”

“Merlin,” Arthur said warningly.

“I promise I will,” Merlin said. “But when I first got here I could hear someone calling to me. It was the Great Dragon under the castle. I visited him and it was he who told me that I had a destiny and that it was to help you unite the land of Albion and bring magic back.”

“A dragon told you…”

Arthur made sure his incredulity showed.

“Well, I didn’t believe him at first and I didn’t want to. I said people could kill you all they wanted. But when that sorceress tried to kill you I just…”

“Saved my life.”

“And then wound up being your servant. It took awhile, but it just started being easier after that. Something would happen, I’d save your life, you’d get the credit for saving Camelot, and everything worked out.”

Something did occur to Arthur then. It was true. Even if he didn’t know the particulars, Merlin had to have used his magic to save Camelot time and time again and yet remained in the shadows.

“All these years, Merlin. You never once sought any credit."

"That's not why I do it," Merlin said quietly.

“Why do you do it? And don’t use the word destiny.”

“For you,” Merlin said, not looking at him.

Arthur felt a rush of affection flood through him and he’d give anything to be able to say he understood why, that he was grateful, that there wasn’t a problem. Some of which was true, but there was a problem and Arthur couldn’t ignore it.

“Continue,” he said, trying not to let his voice break.

“The Druids call me Emrys,” Merlin said, sounding relieved. “They have prophesies written about me, about us. Everywhere we went people kept telling me I was supposed to be at your side protecting you. Either that or telling me that they would kill you even though I was at your side protecting you. Both happened on a regular basis. Every Druid we ever met was yammering inside my head about destiny; you can see why I use the word so much. Kilgharrah, who’s the Great Dragon, by the way, used it so often I wanted to beat him to death. The Gate Keeper, the Fisher King, the Bridge Keeper, Mordred, the Sidhe, the crystals, the list goes on.”

Arthur thought back to all the magical people they’d met over the years. A recent memory pulled at his mind. An old woman, so odd-looking, disrespectful in such a familiar way… 

“What did the Dolma say to you?” Arthur asked, acting on a hunch.

“Um…” Merlin said, shifting uneasily in his chair.

“I knew it!” Arthur said, laughing and clapping his hands together. “You turned into a woman!”

“Only cause you already knew my other disguise,” Merlin mumbled, turning bright red. “Gaius was the one who decided, not me.”

“No wonder she – you - were so mad when I didn’t notice you weren’t there.”

“My life could have been at stake, you know.”

“Merlin, you shan’t distract me from the fact that you turned into a woman,” Arthur said, brief mirth overshadowing everything. “You…you preened when I said I recognized you.”

“I was playing a part, I have to do that sometimes,” Merlin protested.

Arthur sobered again immediately because that was the problem, wasn’t it? How could he ever be sure he knew the real Merlin?

“So was nothing true?” he asked.


	6. You're Too Wrapped Up in Your Self Doubt

After healing Arthur Merlin’s magical senses were at an all time high. He‘d felt like everything was crystal clear and he could do anything. It had been such a relief to know Arthur was alive and well that when the other man remained in stony silence, it was like being doused with cold water. They’d crossed the lake in silence and found Percival and Gwaine on the other side.

Then Merlin had needed to give almost everything he had to save Gwaine’s life. For all his powers and newfound clarity, he’d expounded enough energy on the island to kill a lesser sorcerer. It had been very close there with Gwaine for a second or two and Merlin had despaired of actually succeeding, but then it had all snapped into place.

Not that it mattered, but apparently Gwaine knew about Merlin's magic and now Percival did too. How many more people were going to find out? Maybe everyone. It was very odd; Merlin wasn’t used to having people look at him like Percival looked at him. And he’d been asked questions about himself, about the things that had been so very private to him for so long. Arthur was still pulling the silent act for the most part and it was an awkward journey back to Camelot.

They had spent a silent night on the ground, Merlin not sleeping much at all. He knew Arthur wasn’t either. Merlin guessed they had too much to think about. He’d checked on Gwaine frequently, but the knight was sleeping quietly, far away from all the turmoil Merlin himself was feeling.

It wasn’t just Arthur, though he was definitely Merlin’s biggest problem. This had been the first time Merlin had really had time to assess himself since his experience in the Cave. Since then he’d done almost nothing but use his magic and he wondered at how fast his reserves kept restoring themselves. Normally he’d have been out for weeks, but now it was as if something had been unlocked within him. It had been very difficult to heal Arthur and Gwaine back to back, but even though Merlin hadn’t really had time to rest, he could tell he’d be back to full power in the morning. It made him slightly afraid of himself. 

Things had not been much better the next morning and they’d traveled on to Camelot, the fears in Merlin’s stomach growing with every step. Arthur hadn’t seemed inclined to pass judgment on him since Avalon, simply treating Merlin like he had messed up a hunt or some other similar sin. But things would change once they were back in Camelot, in the seat of Arthur’s power. Merlin just wasn’t sure what they would change to.

Seeing Gaius had been a balm to his wounded soul. Merlin needed someone who would be proud of him, who knew magic wasn’t evil, who didn’t feel betrayed by him. Gaius was that perfect someone. But then Merlin had been ordered to meet Arthur and he felt that shock of fear again, wondering what his future would become now that Arthur was healed and home. Even Arthur’s assurances it wasn’t a trial didn’t dissipate Merlin’s fears over what it would be. 

He and Gaius worked over Gwaine with a hovering Percival getting in the way. While they worked Merlin told Gaius everything that had happened, only editing some personal conversations with Arthur out of it, and some magical details because of Percival. He’d tell Gaius about Mab and the Sidhe later.

Gwaine’s wounds were cleansed and bandaged and his fever attended to. Gaius had finally made Percival go and get his own rest. Gwaine woke up at one point and Merlin had sat with him as long as he’d dared before going to meet Arthur.

Which was like going to an execution even if Arthur had said that it wasn’t. Merlin wasn’t sure he was really up to the challenge of dealing with a hurt Arthur. Not like he normally was. Merlin's magic was buzzing and popping inside him all over the place, perhaps sensing a moment of destiny or maybe just completely revamped since he had merged with the Sidhe. Either way, it made it very difficult, sitting there at the Round Table with Arthur, listening to his questions and trying to explain the very reason for his existence.

There were encouraging moments like when Arthur talked about Merlin never seeking credit or when he teased him about the Dolma, which was one of the most embarrassing moments of Merlin’s life if he thought about it.

But then Arthur’s worries all came down to one question and it hurt Merlin to hear it.

“So was nothing true?”

“That depends,” Merlin said, looking Arthur firmly in the face. “Were there lies? Yes. Did some things happen differently than you remember them? Absolutely. But am I loyal to you? Always. Was I only ever trying to protect you? Yes. Of course, there were true things. I don’t know if you’ve ever tried it long term, but living two lives simultaneously is not that easy. It would have been impossible if I was trying to deceive you for evil.”

“But coming from you I can’t be sure anymore,” Arthur said. “Until I can know…Merlin, trust is something to be earned and now I find that you earned yours under false pretenses. It’s shattered.”

“I’m sorry,” Merlin said, trying not to let tears fall at the finality of Arthur’s tone. It was something that he’d feared for a long time. “I lied because I was afraid. I didn’t want to die. I didn’t want you to choose between me and your father.”

“He’s been dead for years, Merlin,” Arthur said, slapping his hand on the table. “I can well understand not wanting to be associated with magic while he was King, but why didn’t you tell me once he’d died?”

“You thought I killed him,” Merlin whispered.

Arthur’s face tightened and so did Merlin’s stomach.

“Tell me what happened,” Arthur said carefully, like he was trying not to yell.

“I was going to heal him,” Merlin said, looking away, remembering. “I was going to redeem magic in your eyes. I was so excited even though Gaius told me to be cautious. But once Agravaine knew what you were going to do, he told Morgana. She enchanted a necklace that would rebound any healing spell on the wearer and make it an instrument of death. Anything I did made it worse. I didn’t know, I swear I didn’t know.”

Arthur’s eyes closed as if in pain and he sat for a moment or two in silence.

“I was very against magic after that.”

“Yes. Which made me not want to make you choose between me and your beliefs. Something always seemed to happen whenever I was going to tell you. Morgana, Mordred, Gwen. Something.”

“That’s very understandable, but just slightly too convenient. We had three years of peace after Morgana’s last occupation, Merlin. Three years of nothing to distract me or divide me. You can’t tell me that wouldn’t have been better.”

“No, I know,” Merlin said, feeling shame well up in his throat and choke his voice. “No, that is my fault. I guess I am the coward you branded me. I didn’t want anything to change. I didn’t want you to look at me the way you look at me now. We were all happy. I knew it was wrong, yet I did it anyway. I-I’m sorry.”

Arthur sighed and rested his head in his hands.

“Do you really think so ill of me, Merlin?”

“What?” Merlin asked, not understanding.

“Am I so much like my father that you would be afraid of me? I know I treat you like a servant, but you’ve always been more than that. You know that. At least I thought you did.”

“I-I did. I thought it.”

“You’ve told me for years I would be this great King; that I would do all these amazing things, but when it came right down to it, you didn’t really believe it.”

“No, Arthur, I believe it.”

Merlin let his voice rise, trying to put the surety he felt over that into his voice.

Arthur shook his head and looked at him sadly.

“No, because if you did, you would have trusted me. I’m not sure that my reaction would have been much better, but it would have been better. You did tell me of your own volition, at least I didn’t have to find out from someone else, but you waited too long, Merlin. I can’t trust you anymore. Not the way I used to, because now I don’t know if who I think you are is who you are. I don’t even know who I am anymore because apparently everything I thought I’ve done for the last ten years is a lie. The growth I thought I’d achieved, the feats I thought I’d accomplished. Do the people call me King because I am worthy of it or because you made me your puppet?”

Merlin stared at him, gaping. 

“I-I never thought of it like that.”

“Thinking isn’t your strong suit,” Arthur said wearily. “I need to know everything that happened. I need to know what magic you’ve done. What things I really did. I need to reevaluate my life.”

“I’m sorry,” Merlin said, aghast. “I just thought I was…”

“Merlin,” Arthur said, standing up, “I believe you did what you thought was right and I’m going to say something I’ve seldom said to you: thank you.”

“Arthur-"

“But things have to change. We’ll talk more, but I just- I just need to think.”

Merlin stood up, feeling worse than he’d ever felt before. His magic felt like a lead weight inside him now, such a heavy burden to bear. He couldn’t give it up, not even for Arthur, but right now he wished he didn’t have quite so much of it. 

“I am sorry I messed things up,” Merlin said, rubbing at his eyes. “I seem to do that all the time, but you are a great King. The people are the ones who decide that and you know how they feel about it. Being a great King doesn’t mean that you have to do everything on your own. It means you follow your heart and that is one thing I never did for you, Arthur.”

“You never know when to leave off, do you?” Arthur said, turning to him, but there wasn’t anger in his voice.

It was more like it used to be.

Merlin attempted a smile, but he was sure it was a ghastly attempt. 

“That’s who I am,” he said.

Arthur nodded.

“That I believe.”

Merlin bowed and left, closing the door behind him and leaning against it with a heavy sigh.

“Oh dear,” Gwen said from beside him.

He jumped.

“What are you doing?”

“Waiting for the fallout,” she said. “I knew one or both of you would need it after that. Who do you think is worse off?”

“Your duty is to Arthur,” Merlin said, despite how desperately he wished he could talk to her.

Gwen opened the doors and peeked inside and then closed the door. Whatever she saw must have decided her.

“No, right now my duty is to you,” she said, taking his hand. “Come with me.”

Merlin followed her mutely through the halls, not really understanding what she was talking about. She obviously knew his secret too. Probably everyone in Camelot did by now. So why wasn’t she angry?

When they reached hers and Arthur’s quarters, she pulled Merlin inside and closed the door and hugged him.

His hands came up slowly and wrapped around her, needing the comfort, even if he didn’t know why it was being given.

“What was that for?” he asked when she pulled away.

Gwen smiled at him and seated herself at the table.

“For healing my father. It was you, wasn’t it?”

Merlin’s face colored and he sat down next to her.

“I’m so sorry, Gwen,” he said. “I didn’t know Uther would arrest you. I tried to tell them it was me. I should have gone back and gotten the poultice. I was so stupid.”

“You were compassionate,” she said, silencing him. “And I didn’t say it to make you feel bad. I said it to show my gratitude.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, slightly stunned. “How long have you known?”

“Gaius told me while you two were gone.”

“Aren’t you angry?”

“Angry isn’t the right word,” she said. “Hurt perhaps. Confused. I just…feel like you could have told me.”

“Only Gaius knew and he would barely let me do magic let alone tell anyone,” Merlin pleaded. “It wasn’t a matter of trust; it was a matter of protection. I couldn’t tell anyone. And after, well, would that have been fair to Arthur if you’d known?”

“No,” she said. “And that’s why I understand, Merlin. I have been under suspicion of using magic more times than I can think of. What fear you must have felt.”

“I was afraid,” he admitted, looking away from her. “I was a coward.”

“You were smart,” she said. “Gaius was right to hide it. It’s a personal wish that things could have been different, not blame, that I put on you.”

“Arthur doesn’t feel that way,” Merlin said, remembering the sternness in Arthur’s voice.

“Think of how many times Arthur has been betrayed by the people he loved,” Gwen said, putting her hand on his. “Morgana was his sister in deed before he ever learned she was in blood. His uncle betrayed him. Even his Queen,” she said, lowering her eyes. “His faith in himself, in his worthiness, is very brittle because of that. And you were the one he’d never had cause to doubt.”

“Which makes me feel worse, thanks.”

Gwen laughed gently.

“Merlin, I can see you are the same person. So can Arthur. You know how long it takes him to decide what is right. He will be fine in the end. You just must give him time.”

“Time not to chop my head off? I am technically breaking the law by existing.”

“How many laws has Arthur broken? Magical laws even. Don’t fear for your life. I will not let that happen.”

“I’m sorry for never telling you,” Merlin said, leaning back and rubbing his eyes. “I am sorry for a lot of things.”

“I know why you did it,” Gwen said. “And I know what you’ve done for me. Even when I did not deserve it. After all, we’ve all done things we’re ashamed of.”

Merlin leaned forward, musingly, wondering if he was about to make another mistake, but the sudden freedom of being able to tell people things about the past was a bit intoxicating.

“I’m not sure if this will make you feel better or worse,” he said, “but if you’re talking about Lancelot…that wasn’t Lancelot.”

“What?” she asked.

“Lancelot died…died for me…back with the veil. The man who came back was a Shade, resurrected by Morgana and controlled by her. Agravaine was the messenger between them and they conspired to ruin your wedding.”

Gwen sat back, her face in shock, obviously running over everything in her mind.

“But he was so real.”

“I know.”

“But they would not have succeeded with their plan if not for me,” she said bitterly, a single tear falling down her face.

“I don’t know what happened,” Merlin said, grasping her hands, suddenly wishing he hadn’t said anything. “That’s all I know, but Morgana is responsible for what happened just as much as you might be. And that’s in the past now. I just…I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No, no, I want to know it all now. There must be no more secrets between us,” she said, smiling again. “That’s the price of your forgiveness,” she said teasingly.

Merlin groaned. 

“There’s always a price,” he said in mock outrage, letting her change the subject.

“I’ve so many questions,” she said. “No one else knew but Gaius, not ever?”

“My mother, of course. And, Lancelot knew,” Merlin admitted. “He found out when we first met. I helped him kill the griffin and he didn’t want the credit so he left. But he always kept my secret. Right until the end.”

“You were going to sacrifice yourself in the veil,” she said knowingly, “instead of letting Arthur.”

“Of course I was,” Merlin said, not knowing why she sounded awed. “My life has never meant anything compared to Arthur’s.”

“You’ve given up so much,” she said, leaning forward and brushing her hand against his hair in an almost maternal gesture. “Your time and energy, you risked your life, guarded him, and for what? Friendship? Loyalty?”

“Destiny,” he said, enjoying the feel of her hand on his head. Physical affection wasn’t a huge part of his life. “But I believe in him. I believe in what he’s done, what I know he will do. To have been even a small part of that is the biggest privilege of my life. Perhaps I’ve been more manipulative than I knew, than I wanted to be. But I never tried to be. Not for my own gain.”

“None of us is perfect,” she said, her hand continually soothing. “And you stayed, no matter how badly Uther treated you, or how arrogant Arthur was. That is true friendship. To put your life behind someone else’s. Behind everyone else’s. I’ve always tried to match you with women, thinking you deserved someone, but I guess I never knew how lonely you really were. How alone you must have felt.”

He laughed at the very idea. Who had time for romance? Merlin had been too busy making sure Arthur found his perfect woman.

“Too much to bear sometimes,” he said, thinking back to all the times the overwhelming weight of Camelot had felt like it would crush him and there was no one he could turn to. 

Arthur could turn to Merlin, but he couldn’t turn to Arthur.

“I am so sorry, Merlin,” she said.

“I loved once,” he said, looking far away. “A long time ago.”

“Tell me about her?” Gwen asked.

He leaned into her touch and let his mind drift away. Usually thinking about Freya was too painful, but somehow he wanted Gwen to know about her, to know there was such a woman in the world once upon a time.

“She was the Druid girl who escaped, eight years ago now. The one with the curse. Morgana's dress…with the moths…”

“Was for her," Gwen said, realization dawning on her face. "You helped her escape." 

“I didn’t know who she was, but I couldn’t bear the sight of her in that cage. She looked so alone, just like how I felt, so I hid her in the tunnels. She was so afraid, but she wasn’t afraid of me or my magic, just herself. We…bonded. She didn’t know how special she was. But I could be myself with her. There were moments of…moments I never want to forget.” Merlin kept his voice low as he confessed. “I was going to leave with her. We were going to be together. By a lake. Far away from anybody who hated us for who we were.”

Merlin couldn’t help his tears as he went over it. Thinking about Freya now was worse when he thought about what else he might lose in the next few days.

“Oh, Merlin,” Gwen whispered, getting up from her chair and kneeling next to him, her arms around him. 

He put his arms around her and just held on for a few minutes and let himself grieve. Not just for Freya, though that wound was always fresh in his heart, but for the life he’d been living and the trust he’d built with Arthur and for everyone he’d never been able to save.

“She died,” he finally said, his voice hoarse with sobbing. “Arthur didn’t know, but he- when she transformed. So I took her to the lake, Avalon actually, and she died in my arms. She said-she said she’d repay me for my kindness and she did.”

“How?” Gwen asked quietly.

“It’s a long story but she became…well, a lady of a lake, the lake. She appeared to me in some water, back when Morgause had taken Camelot, and told me how to defeat an immortal army. I went to the lake, the same lake I’d once thrown Arthur’s sword in, to keep it from the wrong hands, and she gave it to me. She saved us all. And I’ve never seen her since then, but sometimes I feel her in the water. She’s the only one I’ve ever felt so connected to, so at peace with.”

“There’s so much that happened that we don’t know, isn’t there?” Gwen said, standing up, but keeping a hand on Merlin’s shoulder. “We shall spend the next ten years catching up. But I’m glad, Merlin. I’m glad you had someone who shared your heart, even if only for a little while. I wish I could have met her.”

“She would’ve liked you,” Merlin said, wiping at his face with his neckerchief. "I think, I'm sure. I never really got the chance to know her well. We were strangers." He stared into the distance for a moment. "My soulmate…a perfect stranger. But so lovely."

"I would expect nothing less from the girl to win your heart," Gwen replied.

"Thanks, Gwen," he said, smiling tearily at her.

She smiled back, and then started.

“What am I thinking?” Gwen said. “You’ve not had any rest since you got back. You should go, Merlin, get cleaned up, sleep.”

“I don’t know if I can sleep,” Merlin said, though he was more exhausted than he thought he’d ever been.

His magic kept picking at his mind. It was different now, more powerful, and more sensitive. All the delicate vibrations of magic that he’d never felt before were now present in his very being, like strains of music wafting in his soul, sending messages and intuitions. Talking with Arthur and Gwen had helped distract him from it, but if he were alone, he didn’t know that it wouldn’t drive him crazy.

It wasn’t a bad feeling; it just would take some getting used to. He needed to reevaluate his power. He needed to make sure he was always in control, always his very best. Not just because of Morgana, or needing to protect Arthur, but because he was his magic and if he didn’t work on it, he might not be ready for whatever was coming next.

“You must try,” Gwen said. “We’ll talk more. I have so many more questions, Merlin. You have no idea.”

“I guess I would have the same ones,” he said.

“And do I have your permission to speak with Arthur about what we talked about?” she asked.

He nodded. 

“No secrets,” he said. “I don’t want to lie anymore, or keep track of who knows what. Just…don’t tell him about Freya. I don’t want him to feel bad about being the one-"

“I won’t,” she said. “But I think you should tell him one day.”

“One day,” Merlin said. “One day there will be nothing left.”

There were many things Merlin needed to tell him, so Arthur could make the best decision he could make. About the people Merlin had killed, like Agravaine, about the decisions that haunted him, like poisoning Morgana or letting Kilgharrah free. Merlin’s hands were hardly clean of blood.

“It will be a good day,” she promised.

“I am sorry, Gwen,” Merlin said. “I know it must hurt to find this out, even if you understand why. I regret many things.”

“As do we all,” she said. “I will forgive you yours if you will forgive me mine.”

He smiled at her, amazed at the wisdom and maturity she showed. So many years had passed since they’d met. Him in the stocks, covered in vegetable matter, her rambling and stumbling over her words. 

“You are the right woman for the job,” he said, gesturing to her circlet. “You are the right Queen and the right wife.”

She blushed and smiled at him.

There was a knock on the door and Gwen turned.

“Enter,” she said.

“My lady, the King wants you both right away.”

Merlin’s ears perked up at the mention of both.

“What’s happened?” she asked, picking up her skirts.

“Word from the outer villages. They’re being destroyed. A white dragon is burning them all. Some say it’s-"

“Morgana,” Merlin breathed.

He and Gwen exchanged looks for a moment and then both hurried to Arthur, everything personal forgotten.


	7. Count Your Blessings, Not Your Flaws

Gwaine’s thoughts were blurry and he couldn’t concentrate. So much was changing around him, like his entire world was rearranging itself without his permission. He felt like throwing something at it, but that wasn’t possible, even if he could open his eyes. He was going to need to have some serious conversations with whoever ran things when he got up.

He knew that he should be dying, yet he also knew that he wasn’t. He wasn’t sure why until slowly, the memory of Merlin’s eyes flashing gold flowed back into his mind and he remembered everything. Eira being dragged away, her blonde hair flying back in the breeze as she swung, the sting of the wind on his cheek galloping beside Percival, the burning heat of bites along his body, a venomous blackness stalking inside his head, then the cooling chill of Merlin’s magic. 

Mostly he remembered the crushing weight of guilt for having led Morgana straight to Arthur, the one thing they had been trying to avoid. He’d been very stupid, led completely by his own anger, instead of the intelligence he’d thought he possessed. Why hadn’t Percival stopped him? He knew why, but he just wished the other man had anyway.

Or that Gwaine had died so he didn’t have to face the guilt of his decisions. He didn’t really wish for death, no, he quite liked life most of the time, but sometimes running away was easier than facing things. After all, hadn’t that been the litany of his entire life? He’d finally stayed in one place and it had taken six years, but he’d finally done something worth running away for.

Only he was in a bed, feeling weaker than he had in a long time. He finally managed to get his eyes open and found that he was staring up at Merlin’s anxious face.

“Too close,” he whispered and Merlin smiled before backing away.

“You feeling better?” Gaius asked, leaning over him and poking around Gwaine’s eyes without his permission.

“If you’d stop that, yeah,” Gwaine said, trying to sit up and failing utterly. 

There went the ‘running for it’ plan.

“Don’t try to sit up,” Gaius said sharply. “It’s a miracle you’re alive at all and your body needs rest.”

“Not a miracle, magic!” Gwaine said, winking at Merlin. “Thanks to our budding sorcerer over there.”

Merlin flushed, but not exactly with pleasure, like Gwaine would have thought.

“You’re welcome; now try not to make yourself worse.”

“What’s wrong?” Gwaine asked, feeling instantly protective.

“Nothing. I was just worried about you.”

“For someone with such a big secret, you’re a rotten liar, Merlin. How’s the big lug doing?”

“Which one?” Merlin evaded.

“All of them, any of them,” Gwaine said, waving his hand, vaguely meaning either Percival or Arthur.

“Percival went to get some rest,” Gaius told him, rubbing some foul smelling stuff over Gwaine’s bare chest. “If you mean the King, he’s in council, completely healed.”

“Another victory for the little guy,” Gwaine said, grinning in relief. 

“Speaking of the King, you should go to him, Merlin,” Gaius said. “I don’t require your help here any longer and it’s probably best to get it over with.”

Merlin nodded, his face white, and Gwaine managed enough effort to catch his arm before Merlin could leave.

“Don’t let him bully you, Merlin. You’re a good man, better than any of us deserve. Don’t forget that.”

Merlin shrugged and nodded and Gwaine didn’t feel reassured at all, but there wasn’t really anything he could do about it, so he let Merlin go, the door shutting behind him with a sound of finality.

“How long have you known?” Gaius asked, bustling around behind Gwaine.

“A few years now,” Gwaine said. “Never actually seen him use it, not really. But I can usually tell when he’s done something. He’s the only one around when something strange or miraculous happens. I overheard that little bridge guy calling him Magic and that put the suspicion in my mind. Everything just kept adding up, till one day it hit me and I couldn’t believe I hadn’t seen it before.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“He obviously didn’t want anyone to know. With good reason too. I owe everything to Merlin; did you think I was just going to reveal it without his permission?”

“No,” Gaius said solemnly, “but you could have let him know you knew.”

“If he’d wanted me to know he’d have told me,” Gwaine said firmly. “That’s the way of it. Besides, I could protect him better this way.”

“You mustn’t let him know I said it,” Gaius said, finger to his nose, “but he’s quite capable of protecting himself most of the time.”

Gwaine grinned.

“I know you do the same, old man.”

Gaius smiled back.

“He has grown an amazing amount, but he has a fatal flaw as we all do. He sees the good in people and fights for that good.”

“Not everyone is good,” Gwaine said.

“That’s the other unfortunate part. He’s seen too much of the bad and once he’s seen it in someone, he finds it hard to forgive, particularly when it comes to Arthur.”

“He’s a complex man,” Gwaine said.

Gaius laughed.

“Yes, that would be understating it. Yet I’m always amazed at how his conscience leads him, sometimes to mistakes, but he learns from them.”

“Arthur would do well to listen to him. Maybe if he had started earlier, Merlin wouldn’t have felt the need to keep so many secrets.”

“Who knows what might have happened? I shall trust Arthur to do the right thing. And Merlin too.”

“You’re a mad old man,” Gwaine said, resting his eyes.

He could hear Gaius chuckling as he mixed things. Probably more horrible-tasting things for Gwaine to down. 

He almost felt himself dropping back into sleep when there was a knock on the door and Gwen entered.

“How is he?” he heard her whisper to Gaius.

“Not sleeping, even if that’s how it appears,” Gaius said, prodding Gwaine’s foot.

“Take it easy, Gaius,” Gwaine cried, opening his eyes. “That was my biggest bite.”

“I’m your physician,” Gaius reminded him. “There isn’t an inch of you I haven’t seen.”

“That’s a bit forward,” Gwaine said, almost forgetting the Queen was in the room.

Her laughter brought it back to him and she sat down beside him.

“I see you’re feeling almost like yourself again. I am glad.”

“Thank you, my lady,” he said

An awkward silence fell and he wished he could say something, anything to break the tension.

“Why didn’t you come to me?” she asked finally, looking steadily at him.

“You would’ve looked like that at me and I wouldn’t have gone,” he said.

“Then you would have spared yourself this trouble and Merlin the pains of having to save Arthur from Morgana.”

Gwaine flinched at her harsh tone.

“I know it.”

Gwen sighed and put her hands on his bed.

“Gwaine, I asked you to talk to me. I know this was hard for you. I know I’m to blame.”

“You are not to blame,” he said sharply. “You did the right thing.”

“The right thing is not always the easiest thing to live with,” she said softly. “And sometimes it can hurt the people we care about.”

“Good thing it was just me then,” he said, trying to joke. She simply looked at him and he dropped his head. “Sorry.”

“You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t say such things,” Gwen said dryly. “But that does not excuse your behavior. You’re a knight of Camelot and the two of you knew better. Your actions put the King in danger.”

“I will take any punishment,” he said.

“I don’t want to punish you,” Gwen said, “I want you to understand the importance of your actions. We are…we are a family here, and everything that happens to one of us affects all the rest. You strive to put yourself apart, Gwaine, through a desire not to get hurt or not to hurt, I don’t know. But that also affects us whether you know it or not.”

“I’ve never really had one of those before,” he said, after a minute or two.

“A family?” she asked.

He nodded, shrugging.

“Well, you have one now whether you like it or not. And, as the matriarch of it, I’m telling you to get used to it and start behaving like it.”

“Yes, my lady,” he said, struggling not to grin.

She grinned herself and released him from the pressure.

They had a quiet moment of mirth before she sobered.

“Arthur will still have to be told.”

“I know,” he said. “I’ll tell him.”

“Good,” she said. “Now, I’ll let you rest. I’d better see how Merlin and Arthur are getting along.”

“Don’t let Arthur bully him,” Gwaine said.

She looked back over her shoulder and smiled wryly.

“I won’t let either of them hurt each other.”

When she’d gone Gaius bustled over and put some more paste all over Gwaine’s chest. It smelled terrible but it made it easier to breathe and he relaxed. He might have even dozed off a bit before there was another knock on the door and Percival entered, looking a lot cleaner than the last time Gwaine had seen him. 

“Where are my flowers?” Gwaine asked cheerfully.

Percival scowled at him and dragged a chair over next to Gwaine’s cot.

“You’re lucky I didn’t bring you snakes.”

“Ouch,” Gwaine said. “Someone’s in a snit.”

“You almost died!” Percival snapped. “And it would have been my fault.”

“The whole thing was my idea,” Gwaine said. “Give me some of the credit for my own foolish decisions now.”

“I shouldn’t have agreed! I knew better, but I let my own anger lead me wrong. And you knew that.”

“Yeah, I did. You’re awfully easy.”

Percival leaned forward, his muscles bulging way too close to Gwaine for comfort.

“If I didn’t know you so well I’d box your ears.”

“Violence in the sickroom!” Gwaine called out. “Gaius, isn’t there some sort of law against it?”

“I’m sure you two grown men can figure it out,” Gaius said mildly.

Percival sat back and glowered for a minute.

“I’m glad you’re well,” he said finally.

“I’m sorry,” Gwaine said, more serious. “We shouldn’t have gone. I shouldn’t have suggested it. But you’re just lucky Arthur didn’t die because you insisted on carrying my carcass all over the woods.”

“If I hadn’t, you would be dead right now.”

“Exactly. No muss, no fuss.”

“You’re an idiot,” Percival said dangerously. “Haven’t the last six years taught you anything?”

“Some interesting ways to kill people, I’ll give you that.”

“My family died!” Percival said, snapping, and Gwaine sobered instantly. “Gone, wiped out, slaughtered. I know you’ve never really had one, but I was all alone for the first time in my life and do you know who found me? Lancelot. He was my friend. The first person I’d ever known who was as alone as I then was. He took me under his wing, gave me back some meaning in my life. He brought me to Arthur who accepted me even though I was a nobody, who shook my hand like I was a noble. We did something amazing together, all of us. A year later, my friend Lancelot was gone. All I had left was this place with Arthur and the knights. Every time we go out to fight I risk losing one of you. Like Lancelot, like Elyan. I’ve had enough loss. So do not ask me to leave you behind ever again.”

Gwaine was pretty sure that was the longest speech Percival had ever made and he was absolutely flabbergasted. Gwaine took a moment to really think and realized he’d never seen it that way before. He didn’t really think of his own death much, didn’t think it would matter as much as other people’s. But maybe to somebody like Percival, who guarded each friend jealously like they might be stolen, maybe his death would mean something.

“It’s not that I want to die,” Gwaine said. “And I’m grateful for what you did. But you and I both know Arthur’s life comes before any of ours. And I’d already betrayed him. There was no sense in saving me.”

“Which is why I went directly to Avalon instead of back to Camelot,” Percival said calmly. “But I couldn’t and wouldn’t do nothing. So shut up about it.”

“Yes, Sire,” Gwaine said mockingly. “It makes me a little weak in the knees when you go all commanding like that.”

“I can still kill you,” Percival said.

“And deprive the world of me? Don’t be so cold-hearted.”

Percival smiled and leaned back, the tension gone from his shoulders.

“So you’re okay?”

“Yeah. Gaius thinks I’m all fit for jousting.”

“No, I do not,” came the answering call from somewhere behind them.

Gwaine smiled.

“Had the Queen in here, not very happy about what we did.”

“Yeah, I bumped into her in the corridors. Said you and I needed to talk to Arthur.”

“She’s right. I don’t know as what I did is forgivable.”

“It happened to Elyan too,” Percival said. “He gave away Arthur’s location.”

“But Elyan didn’t go seeking her out, I did. I had valuable information and I went riding out after her, more arrogant than Arthur ever was, thinking I could kill her.”

“We did that,” Percival reminded him. “And I’m much more intelligent than you, so at least you have an excuse.”

Gwaine smiled.

“Well, I’d like to go explain myself if you’d care to accompany me,” Gwaine said nonchalantly.

“You’re not fit to be out of bed,” Gaius said, appearing out of nowhere.

“Never stopped me before.”

“Why now? Surely it can wait.”

“Gotta be now.”

“You’re hoping to take some of the burden off of Merlin,” Percival said, staring at Gwaine.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Gwaine said, actually managing to swing his legs over the edge of the cot.

Gaius sighed.

“If you can walk by yourself, you can go, so long as Percival helps you. However, I’d just ask that in lifting the burden from Merlin, you don’t heap it on Arthur. Our King has been through quite a lot in the past few days.”

Gwaine nodded.

“I promise, Gaius. I like the old Sovereign as much as anybody, you know that. But I owe it to Merlin. And I owe Arthur the truth.”

“Go on then,” Gaius said, with the tone of a man giving something up for lost.

They made their way down the corridors slowly, Percival half carrying Gwaine.

“This is a stupid idea,” Percival kept saying.

“Best reason to do it,” Gwaine said, smiling cheerily and trying not to let on how much he was hurting.

They reached the throne room and entered. Arthur stood by the windows alone.

“What are you doing?” he asked in astonishment when looking at them. “If you had vital information I could have come to you, you know.”

“Nonsense, the exercise did me good,” Gwaine said, leaning on Percival and panting. “Besides, you brooding alone is never a good idea.”

“Neither is interrupting me when I am,” Arthur said. “What is it?”

“I'm not sure how much you know about what happened here with the execution and all that,” Percival said, as if sensing Gwaine couldn’t talk about that bit.

Arthur nodded. 

“Yes, I was informed of the traitor and what happened. I’m sorry, Gwaine.”

“Not your fault, Sire,” he said.

“We sent false information to Morgana,” Percival continued. “Then we figured we knew where she’d be.”

Arthur’s eyes widened.

“So you idiots rode after her,” Arthur finished. “When you caught up with her, she was too much for you. Captured you, tortured you, made you give her my location, and left you for dead. Am I getting this right?”

Gwaine stood up, ignoring Percival’s arm and the pain.

“It was my idea, Sire. I’m the one to blame. I’m the one who gave you up.”

“Do I truly look so well surrounded by friends that everyone’s anxious to prove they betrayed me?” Arthur asked, running his hands through his hair. “Gwaine, what you did was foolish and reckless and dangerous. I don’t care that you gave me up. You didn’t have a choice; I saw what she did to you. But why did you do it in the first place? If it weren’t for Merlin, I would be dead right now.”

“If it weren’t for Merlin,” Gwaine echoed solidly.

Arthur groaned.

“Why is everyone on his side? Don’t tell me you know too?”

“I’ve known for years,” Gwaine said.

Arthur paled.

“What?”

“I guessed. He never told me. I just didn’t see any reason to mention it seeing as how he never did a single thing but protect you and he could hardly do that if you chopped off his head.”

“It’s the Society of Merlin Protectors, I swear,” Arthur muttered. “Gwaine, I’m not passing judgment on you as you clearly want me to. Besides you should be in bed. Thank you for telling me.”

“What are you going to do about Merlin?” Gwaine insisted, letting himself lean back against Percival.

“Nothing at the moment,” Arthur said. “I don’t seem to ever get any peace to think about it.” As if to prove his point a guard opened the door and rushed in, ushering in a man with soot on his face, singed clothes, and a limp. “What happened?” Arthur asked.

“An attack, Sire,” said the man, falling to his knees. “We didn’t know what to do. A dragon, a white dragon. A woman with dark clothing, dark hair. All our crops are gone, Sire. E-everything we had. My family-"

“It’s all right,” Arthur said, drawing the man up to his feet. “Thank you for letting me know. Was that all that happened?”

“No,” the man said, gulping. “She-she let me live to tell you, Sire. She said-she said she’d keep burning.”

Arthur looked up and motioned to a guard.

“Call the Queen, get her here. Gaius and Leon as well.” Arthur hesitated. “And…Merlin. Tell them to come at once.”

Gwaine looked at Percival, smiling, then grew serious again as the man started babbling about Morgana’s laugh and the way she’d slaughtered his family, screaming for Emrys and her brother, talking to them like they were there.

“She’s gone mad,” Percival said.

“She always was in my opinion,” Gwaine said, sinking to the ground, needing to sit.

“Are you all right?” Percival asked.

“Fine, fine,” Gwaine said, waving his hand airily.

Arthur dismissed the guard and ordered him to take the man to get some food and medical attention.

“Three villages gone,” Arthur said. “Just gone like that. Then she disappears. What answer can I give her if I don’t know where she is? She says she’ll keep burning, but she doesn’t say where.”

“I don’t think she’s operating under full capacity,” Percival said carefully.

“That’s fairly obvious,” Arthur said. “Well, I’ll just have to send out scouts then. Try and find her. I won’t empty Camelot just for her. The Saxons are scattered so it has to just be her, the dragon, and maybe a few men.”

The doors opened and Gwen and Merlin rushed in.

“What happened?” Gwen asked.

Arthur explained the situation to them and then to Leon and Gaius when they came.

“Leon, send out scouts. Find her. In the meantime have all the people pack up their belongings and food that they can carry and come to the city. She can burn their homes, but I’m not going to let her have their lives if I can help it. Send minimal guards to protect the people. We have to protect Camelot and still be able to send out the scouts. As soon as we know where she is, we can go out and meet her.”

Leon nodded and left, issuing orders as he went.

Gwen went to Arthur and took his hand. Merlin stepped hesitantly toward them.

“Arthur, I can beat her. You know I can.”

“I know, Merlin,” Arthur said sharply. “Just-just let me think.”

“There’s nothing to think about,” Merlin said, suddenly sounding much more in command of himself than normal. “I am Emrys. I’m who she wants revenge against. She may think she hates you, but it’s me she’d love to kill. And I can beat her. Why are you willing to risk more of your men? Send me, the person you’re not even sure about.”

Arthur looked like he wanted to punch Merlin. But he didn’t. Gwaine could say this for Arthur, despite how poorly he sometimes treated Merlin, yelling, throwing things, making him do menial labor, Arthur had never struck Merlin in anger. He’d hit him, but it had been more the blows of an older brother than a master.

“You’re doing it again, Merlin. Playing on my emotions and sense of duty. You’re right, of course. But just because I haven’t figured out what to do about you yet does not mean I’m going to send you out alone to face a woman with deadly, magical powers, no matter what you can do. So shut up and let me think!”

Merlin sighed in frustration, but one look at Arthur’s face and Gwen’s cautionary nod served to keep him quiet.

“Gaius, what’s Gwaine doing here?” Gwen asked, tactfully changing the subject. “Shouldn’t he be in bed?”

“And miss all the fun?” Gwaine asked from the floor.

“Percival, get him back to bed. Gaius, make sure he stays there,” Arthur said, a long-suffering tone in his voice. “Drug him if you have to. Merlin, I don’t know how long it will take to find out where Morgana is, but you should prepare yourself. We’ll- let’s talk later.”

“Arthur, you need rest,” Gwen said.

“I would highly recommend it, Sire,” said Gaius firmly.

“And I will rest as well,” Arthur said wearily. “See, Gwaine, if I can do it, you can do it.”

“Your Majesty is such a good role model,” Gwaine said sarcastically as Percival picked him up and carried him away.


	8. Put All Your Faults to Bed

Arthur had desperately needed time to think after his talk with Merlin. It had cleared a lot of things up for him, most specifically Merlin’s intentions, but Arthur still had no idea what the future held. It was pretty apparent Merlin had always struggled with this secret and had not had any ill will toward Arthur or Camelot, but he just couldn’t get over the fact that Merlin hadn’t trusted him.

And, like he’d told Merlin, Arthur needed to reevaluate his life, the way he ran his kingdom. He’d spent so long trying to live up to his father’s expectations, then trying to follow his heart, that he hadn’t realized how much influence Merlin really had on him. It had just been natural; a pattern the two of them had fallen into. But had Merlin really just fallen into it or had he planned it? However good his intentions, had Merlin planned to be so influential to the King and what did Arthur think about that if it were so?

Arthur had wandered around the room, pacing, staring out the window, and absentmindedly going through fight patterns, just thinking. Why did he really care so much about the fact that Merlin had never told him? Was this all in his head? Was he making too big a deal of it? After all, Merlin was a good man, a wise man, apparently. And that was a big shock to take, in and of itself. Merlin had saved his life over and over again and those were just the times that Arthur actually knew what had happened. How many more times had Merlin saved the day from the shadows, unthanked, risking his life in more ways than one, serving because it was in his nature?

Words kept ringing through Arthur’s mind as he paced. Words Gaius had said to him years before.

_“One day you will learn, Arthur, one day you will understand just how much they’ve done for you.”_

How much had Merlin done? The question made Arthur want to call for Merlin, sit him down, and make him recite his version of history for the last ten years. Then Arthur could make up a list and compare it to his own version. See the pros and cons of keeping Merlin around, of trusting him. See if what Arthur remembered matched Merlin’s good intentions enough that he didn’t have to feel so betrayed and worthless.

Because if Merlin was a powerful sorcerer and had always been and Arthur had spent the last ten years belittling him and being helped by him without knowing it, what good was Arthur? What kind of King was he when he didn’t even know what was going on in the hearts of those closest to him? What else was he missing, in his Queen, in his knights, in his people? How many times would Camelot have fallen, would Arthur have died, but for the secret of one seemingly incompetent servant? Did Arthur deserve to be King?

He’d felt so frustrated he’d wanted to tear his hair out. And there were still questions. He should have stayed talking to Merlin, digging every last secret out so Arthur could know. Know what things Merlin held back. If Merlin was on such good terms with a dragon, why had that dragon attacked Camelot? If Merlin was magic, why had he stopped Arthur from killing his father when Morgause told Arthur about his birth? How had Merlin known the truth about Morgana, about Agravaine, and why hadn’t he done something to stop them? Why had he been so resistant to Mordred being in Camelot? If he’d known Guinevere was under Morgana’s spell, why hadn’t he done something about it sooner? 

But Arthur had slowly come to realize that these were things that could be answered over time. He didn’t need to interrogate Merlin for hours and make him account for every single second of the last ten years. Arthur did not always find it easy, but he knew how to forgive. He knew how to build up trust when it had been lost. He also knew there were people in this world he didn’t want to live without so long as their hearts were in the right place. Guinevere had always held that place in his heart, but he knew Merlin belonged to that category as well, however much Arthur pretended otherwise.

Arthur had questions and some would have to be answered before he could even begin to think about magic in general and not just Merlin in particular, but he did know what the end result would be. He would forgive Merlin; he just had to get there first. It wouldn’t be easy and he still needed to think, but he couldn’t see any other way out of this particular situation that wasn’t foolish, selfish, and/or cruel.

He’d still been thinking about it when Gwaine had stumbled in, half-dead, with Percival helping him along. The idiocy of the man never ceased to amaze Arthur, but his confession and his need to make it now of all times, staggered Arthur yet again. He wasn’t sure how many more revelations he could handle. In fact, he probably was handling it a lot better because, really, it paled in significance to Merlin’s secret.

Their actions disappointed him, yet he could understand the reasons why they’d done them, especially with what Guinevere had told him about the traitor earlier. He knew the pain Gwaine must have felt, he’d felt it before too many times. Arthur already knew all about Percival’s reasons to hate Morgana. He just wished…well, he didn’t suppose it made any difference. He’d already been wounded and Morgana hadn’t been able to do anything but punish innocent people in her drive to get to him.

The fact that Gwaine had known about Merlin’s magic and never said anything was more surprising and harder to understand. Granted, the man had had years to get used to the idea and didn’t have the same background Arthur did, but he couldn’t comprehend how anyone could be so casual about such a secret. And why everyone seemed so intent on protecting Merlin from Arthur. Perhaps if that was how he was viewed, it was no wonder Merlin was afraid to tell him. Which made Arthur want to reevaluate everything again. Was he truly such a bad lord? Merlin had never given an inch to Arthur that Arthur could see, so why was everyone on Merlin’s side?

Of course Arthur never got time to think about that either, because news came of Morgana’s attack and he had to put aside all personal considerations and be a King, even if he was not sure he deserved to be one. It was harder to trust his instincts and he made the decisions, fearful that he was making the wrong ones. Desperately he clung to other words he’d heard long ago. Words spoken by Guinevere on different occasions.

_“Worry is not a wise counsel. Forget everything else. You have to follow what you believe is right…You have a good heart, be true to it…You've a kind heart, Arthur, don’t ever change. Not for anyone.”_

But it was hard to keep the dread out when the realization of Morgana’s obvious madness grew over him. She was not just bent on revenge; not just trying to achieve what she thought was rightfully hers anymore. No, there was no rationality to her actions; something had happened to drive her so far over the brink of insanity she’d been hovering over that Arthur didn’t think she could ever come back again. He shut his eyes against the moment of pain he felt for her and continued to give orders.

Of course, then Merlin had to speak up. 

“Arthur, I can beat her. You know I can.”

“I know, Merlin,” Arthur said sharply. “Just-just let me think.”

“There’s nothing to think about,” Merlin said, suddenly sounding much less like the shrinking Merlin of the last few days and more like the insolent Merlin trying to get Arthur up in the mornings. “I am Emrys. I’m who she wants revenge against. She may think she hates you, but it’s me she’d love to kill. And I can beat her. Why are you willing to risk more of your men? Send me…the person you’re not even sure about.”

Arthur felt like hitting him. Really hitting him. Like the way he would hit someone who’d insulted his Queen, not the way he normally hit Merlin, in fun or in playful frustration, or to illustrate a point. Merlin still didn’t quite get it, didn’t understand how hard it was for Arthur to trust both Merlin and his own judgment now, and there Merlin was, telling him what to do. 

“You’re doing it again, Merlin. Playing on my emotions and sense of duty. You’re right, of course. But just because I haven’t figured out what to do about you yet does not mean I’m going to send you out alone to face a woman with deadly, magical powers, no matter what you can do. So shut up and let me think!”

Merlin sighed, but shut up thankfully, probably due more to Guinevere’s body language than anything else. Blessed be Guinevere for always being there and for changing the subject, putting the focus back on Gwaine.

Who was being obstinate, as per usual.

“Percival, get him back to bed. Gaius, make sure he stays there,” Arthur said, realizing he had to be the grown up in this situation. “Drug him if you have to. Merlin, I don’t know how long it will take to find out where Morgana is, but you should prepare yourself. We’ll- let’s talk later.”

Of course then everyone started in on him and he realized he was incredibly tired. So tired he didn’t want to stand up anymore.

He issued orders for the reports of the scouts to be brought to him when they came in, but it could be a few days before that happened, so he knew he had time to rest. The day was getting late and he was more than happy to turn in for the night, even if it was earlier than usual for bed.

Merlin dithered around for awhile after everyone left, as if not sure if he should be helping Arthur or not. Arthur didn’t even know what to say, but Guinevere again, took pity on the both of them, and knew just what to do.

“Merlin, you must be tired as well. I’ll take care of Arthur tonight. Perhaps tomorrow you can resume your duties, but I’m pretty sure you deserve some days off.”

Merlin actually rolled his eyes but did what Guinevere said and disappeared, leaving Arthur alone with Guinevere.

“I don’t know what I would do without you,” he said as they walked back to their room.

“Are you all right?” she asked. “I’m sorry I didn’t come to you earlier, but I thought you’d prefer the time to think.”

“As always you know my needs before I do,” he said, squeezing her hand. “It was just what I needed, thank you.”

“And now I think you need that bath,” she said.

“Do I look that terrible?” he asked as they walked into their room and closed the door.

“You look just fine,” she said, smiling. “But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t have a bath.”

He wasn’t sure why, but being there with her, alone in their bedroom, made him feel much less tired. He reacted instinctively, pressing closer to her, causing her to lean back against the door and her breath quickened.

“And what about your earlier promise?”

“Promise?” she asked innocently, her eyes fluttering closed as his mouth hovered next to her neck.

“To join me,” he said, ghosting his lips down her skin, enjoying the feel of her heart beating faster against his chest.

“You need to rest,” she said, attempting to push him away.

He let her, but kept hold of her arm.

“Not more than I need to be with you.”

“I’m right here,” she said.

“I had thought I would never see you again,” he said.

“I know,” she whispered.

“How?”

“You sent your seal, Arthur. It was a pretty clear sign you were planning for the end.”

“It was meant to be a compliment,” he said, lifting her chin to see her eyes. She nodded, but there was such sadness in her gaze that he frowned. “But you did not see it that way,” he surmised.

“What I saw was a sign that the man I loved had given up hope and would not be returning to me. That he loved and trusted me, I already knew, but that was not what I wanted in that moment.”

“I’m sorry for what I put you through,” he said, sighing.

She gripped his arms tightly.

“No, Arthur, you did the right thing, going to face her, fighting. But sometimes it feels like the pain we went through to get here, all that I’ve given up to wear this crown, should have been enough. I shouldn’t have to worry about losing you as well.”

“Guinevere,” he said.

“No, I’m being silly, I know. I just can’t help feeling that way occasionally. I would not trade our life together, but it does not always seem fair.”

“No, no, it’s never been fair,” he said, and this time it was him who led her wordlessly into their inner room, then stopped short at the sight of the steaming bath.

He looked at her in surprise and she smiled at him.

“I have my ways,” she said.

“May they never cease,” he said, gathering her closely to him and leading her toward the bath.

Turning her around, he kept his lips on her neck while he leisurely untied her dress. Women’s clothing had always been a complete mystery to him, but having spent the last four years married to Guinevere, he was quickly becoming a master, making it his business to know everything there was to know about getting them off.

Slowly she turned to face him as he placed her dress carefully in the wardrobe, and then pulled her undergarment over her head.

She was always a sight that took his breath away, dark skin gleaming in the torchlight, roses in her cheeks because he was looking at her. He took her hand and gently lowered her into the water. She looked up at him expectantly and he smiled.

He quickly crossed to the doors, both of them, locking them securely, and then set the screen around the bath for good measure before divesting himself of his shirt and breeches and stepping into the bath with her.

The hot water made his muscles sing with joy, the tightness he’d been indulging them in all day, dissipating with the heat. He could also feel the dirt and grime of his long battle wash away. He felt truly clean again for the first time in so long.

Being the King, his bathtub was naturally bigger than most, but it was small enough that there was nowhere he could move that did not involve touching her in some way. And he didn’t mind that at all.

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be right now,” he said, pulling her gently against him.

Her wet skin slipped against his in a most pleasant way as she turned her head to face him.

“Sometimes, Arthur, there’s something very normal about you.”

“What’s that?”

“You never cease to be a man.”

He laughed and then captured her mouth with his, relishing the feel of her lips parting beneath his, his teeth gently scraping along her mouth, the wetness of her tongue sliding beneath his own.

For several moments it was peace, the quiet intimacy of a husband and wife enjoying time together, her helping him wash the last few days off him, but the water was colder sooner than Arthur would have liked. He grabbed towels, set out for them earlier, and stepped out, wrapping hers around her. He rubbed her down gently despite her protests.

“You did this for me earlier,” he said. “Now it is my turn.”

“My lord is most gracious,” she said, bobbing her head, her hair, still dry, flowing around her like a curtain.

“You are beautiful, Guinevere,” he murmured, bringing the towels up her legs, staring up at her. “Like sunrise over a mountain or a rainfall in the desert or the first flower of spring.”

She blushed deeply and he could never quite get over her innocence still, despite the many times they’d done this, the things he’d said to her. It was as if she could not understand the way she affected him simply by being herself.

“You speak very prettily, Arthur,” she said, running her hands over his wet hair, now free of dried blood and sweat, while he rubbed himself down quickly.

“I mean every word,” he said, taking her hands and kissing the knuckles of each hand.

“I believe you do,” she said, surprising him by grasping his hands and pulling him toward the bed.

He laid out a towel underneath them and ran his hands along her skin. It was inconceivably soft beneath his fingers, the rough pads of his fingers still sensitive enough to rejoice in the contrast. Despite the majority of her life spent being poor, being used to labor, her own fingers were softer now, eased by the passage of time being Queen.

She arched her back underneath his touch, breathing out his name, and he enjoyed the fact that he knew her body so well, knew just where to touch her, exactly how to. He’d spent the last four years mapping the contours of her body, memorizing her touch of his. 

He always fell in love with her all over again whenever they joined, her voice whispering endearments in his ear, her light touch becoming rougher with need, her ability to let go of her normal reserve heightening the longer they went. He was slow, wanting to make it last, wanting to feel this way instead of the way he had been feeling. 

It hit him anew how close he’d come to never knowing her like this again and he increased his speed, the knowledge making him slightly more desperate, the need to feel her more. She encouraged him with her touch and her words, the incoherent noises falling from her mouth like a spur, urging him on.

The moments never lasted forever like he wanted, but it was not over forever like he had feared, and he was still there with her, wrapped in her arms, lying in a content tangle of limbs, her skin and hair and eyes and touch and whole self right within his reach.

“I love you very much, Guinevere,” he whispered into her hair. “More than anything.”

“I love you too,” she whispered back and he was alarmed to hear tears in her voice.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” she said, “forgive me. I can’t help it. I just keep thinking about if you had never come back.”

“But I did,” he said, shifting his head to look her in the eye.

“But what if you hadn’t?” she asked. “I don’t mean to belittle what you went through, Arthur, but I have never felt so alone. I can understand better the burden that you must feel all the time. The weight of an entire kingdom on my shoulders, it was overwhelming. I don’t know how you stand it.”

“Honestly, I don’t know how I do either,” he said, brushing a kiss against her hair. “I’m sure you did better than I would have. There’s such a level-headed wisdom to you. But I am sorry you had to bear that for me.”

“It’s the life I chose,” she said, “and I’d choose it again, but it is harder than I ever imagined.”

“Is it really so difficult to be with me?” he asked, half-joking, thinking about more than just their marriage.

“You are not the problem,” she said, poking him. “And I would not ever have you think so. But you have begun something, Arthur, something different, and not everyone will agree with you. It was incredibly hard to get the council to agree to the decisions I made. They did not like a woman making them, they did not like a commoner making them, and they did not like the fact that I’m- that I- I can’t seem to bear you an heir.”

“Guinevere!” he said, looking into her eyes. “I could not love you more than if you’d given me a hundred heirs. I don’t care what they say. I would never change my choice of wife.”

“But what if something happens to you?” she said, voice muffled through tears. “What if something happens and I’m left alone for good, with no heir? What happens to this kingdom then? To the wonderful place you’ve entrusted to me? I don’t want to be the one to let it fall apart.”

“You wouldn’t,” he said, kissing her briefly. “I may not be as sure about my right to rule right now, but I do not doubt yours. The choices you’ve made, the trials you’ve endured, they have all been done with grace under pressure, executed by a wisdom I could never hope to contend with. It is you whom I trust above all others, your opinion that matters most to me. I cannot count the number of times I have almost chosen ill, but you held me back.”

“Why is it so easy for us to see the good in others but not ourselves?” she asked, tracing her hand up and down his chest, seemingly needing to touch him. “I would say those same things to you. I know you feel lost right now, that perhaps what you have accomplished was not you, but Merlin through you, but it is not true. Merlin may have influenced you and that is not such a bad thing as you may think, but you have ever chosen your own counsel, following your heart and conscience above all else. It is one of the things I admire most about you.”

“Then we are both right,” he said, rubbing her shoulder. “We are both mighty rulers, all wise and knowing, able to handle anything thrown at us.”

“I do not know about that,” she said, smiling finally, “but perhaps our fears are not as great as they feel. I am always my bravest when you are with me.”

“And that is when I am wisest,” he said.

“So we should always be together,” she said.

“I like the sound of that,” he agreed, kissing her again, lingering.

She kissed him back with passion, but there was no urgency.

“It cannot always be,” she said, when they finally broke apart. “You will ride out again to face Morgana.”

“But you will rule with grace and mercy,” he said. “If I can promise to come back, will you promise to be here when I return?”

“That is a promise I can make,” she said. “But I shall not hold it against you if you break yours. It is not something in your control, after all.”

“I will come back,” he said, staring at her, trying to drive the truth into her soul if he had to. “Nothing can keep us apart, Guinevere. I believe that with all that I am. Think of how many times we’ve been separated. A little thing like death would not be able to do more than prolong the separation.”

“You’re very mystical all of a sudden,” she said, but she sounded touched.

“I believe it,” he said firmly.

“I guess I do too,” she said softly. “Through it all, you’ve been my one constant. I believe in that, in us. It’s what keeps me going.”

“I believe in you,” he said, resting his forehead on hers.

“And I in you,” she said, reaching up to caress his head. “I don’t care who saved you, or who influenced you, or how many questions we have about the past, you are King, Arthur. You are the man for this kingdom. I don’t know why you can’t see it, but perhaps it is part of why you are so good at it. Every time you fall down, you rise again. Every time something attacks, you sacrifice everything for everyone else. You understand the importance of every individual person. You seek to unite rather than conquer. You desire peace, not war. You want to ask questions before you make decisions. You walk a balance between the wisdom of your head and the clemency of your heart. Were I a simple peasant girl, one you’d never spoken to or noticed, I would love you still, grateful beyond all measure that King Arthur of Camelot was my lord. Every person in Camelot would give their lives for you because you’ve proven your worth to them time and time again. I don’t know if what Merlin says is true, but I can well believe that you will be the greatest King Albion has ever seen. The things you have done will last through all time. They couldn’t not.” She stared beyond him as if the future was already before her. “King Arthur of Camelot, the most noble man I ever met.”

Arthur pulled back slowly as she spoke, staring at her. A warmth rose through him at her words, like a blanket on a cold night, easing balm over his wounded soul. Her praise filled him with a desire to be the man she said he already was. He felt humbled to know that what she spoke she believed with all her heart. He seemed to see himself through her eyes, as if he could reach out and touch the future she seemed so sure he would have, the deeds she saw him doing. It was tangible, possible, all because she believed it. He had needed to hear those words, needed to hear it from someone other than Merlin. And in her words he found absolution for Merlin, for the man he loved like a brother, who saw this same vision that appeared so vividly before Arthur now, and who had striven to fulfill it the only way he knew how.

Nothing was perfect, nothing was certain. Arthur didn’t know what the future held. Morgana could kill him tomorrow. Some other evil could destroy Camelot, but he would not let such a thing happen without a fight. It might take years, it might not be exact, but he would fight for the future his loved ones saw for him.

He still did not know how he felt about Merlin exactly, what their new relationship would look like, but he no longer felt doubt about himself and he had none whatsoever about the woman lying next to him. It was a priceless gift, her words to him.

“You never cease to surprise me,” he said, at a loss for words, still stunned by the epiphany floating over him.

She laughed, seeming embarrassed.

“I can see you believe me now.”

“You’re most persuasive,” he said, kissing her again. “Thank you. Thank you, Guinevere, for never giving up on me.”

“You’ve come a long way, Arthur,” she said, between kisses. “I can only imagine to what heights you will rise.”

“So long as you are with me, there will be no limits,” he said, losing himself to her warmth and touch again.

Later he felt sleep folding over him and he welcomed it, no longer afraid of what was to come.


	9. Rid of the Monsters Inside Your Head

Merlin had insisted on Gwaine taking his bed so that Gwaine could sleep easier, but still be close enough Gaius could treat him without having to go all the way to Gwaine’s room on the other side of the castle.

But that left Merlin lying on a pallet on the floor, listening to Gaius snore without the benefit of an, albeit thin, door between them.

Merlin had barely slept in days and he was worried about how he couldn’t seem to. He was at the point of wanting to use a sleeping spell on himself, but he knew how dangerous that was, especially since he’d be asleep if anything went wrong with it. But, at the same time, something deep inside him knew he could pull it off, knew that little things that would be dangerous for anyone else, would be child’s play for him now. The thought scared him, how powerful he’d become, and he wondered if Arthur was right to be so anxious about him. Perhaps Uther had been wrong fundamentally, but maybe, just maybe, somebody like Merlin could fall into darkness more easily than lesser sorcerers.

Instead of playing with more magic, Merlin closed his eyes and concentrated, looking deep within himself, willing away the world, willing away doubt, willing away fear. It was hard for him to let go, he had so many questions, so much uncertainty about his life, but he forced himself to. Gaius had taught him this trick long ago when Merlin would often lie awake at night, worrying about Arthur or Camelot or his magic. Merlin had seen too many dark things and sometimes this was the only way he could get any sleep at all. He had practiced endlessly, longing for the relief of getting away from the pressures of life.

It was harder this time, but eventually it worked because Merlin felt himself drifting off, floating into sweet oblivion, not worrying about tomorrow.

It was dark when he opened his eyes, the sense that he was needed somehow, forcing him from his slumber. But he didn’t feel groggy like he normally did, instead he was wide awake, refreshed as if he’d slept for a full night. Gaius still snored; the noise resounding through the small room, all else seemed quiet. Merlin wondered if there was something wrong with Arthur. Merlin had always seemed to have a sixth sense when something was bothering Arthur, even more so since Merlin had healed him. Arthur’s pain had been practically screaming at Merlin’s senses since then, but the reason why was not hard to figure out. It was Merlin himself that was the problem there.

No, this was something different, something subtler, closer. Looking around him, Merlin could hear a noise coming from his room. Hauling himself off of the floor, he walked toward the stairs, conjuring a flame in his hand with little more than a thought.

“Gwaine?” he asked, knocking quietly.

“Merlin,” came the answer.

Whether that meant he was supposed to come in or not, Merlin didn’t know, but he opened the door and walked in to find Gwaine in the process of trying to get himself out of the bed to pick up the water jug he’d knocked over.

“Do you ever hold still?” Merlin asked in exasperation, sending the flame in his hand to light the candles and bending over to pick up the jug himself.

When he straightened up he saw Gwaine looking at him with a huge grin on his face.

“Been waiting a long time for you to do that,” Gwaine said.

“What?”

“Use magic openly.”

Merlin looked away, slightly embarrassed.

“It’s nothing.”

“Don’t be so modest, my friend,” Gwaine said, lying back down.

“Did you lure me up here on purpose to perform magic tricks for you?” Merlin asked.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Gwaine said, and Merlin believed him. “I’m not suffering that much for company. But since you’re here…”

Merlin dragged his chest up next to the bed and observed the patient closely. Gwaine’s head was slightly beaded with sweat and his stomach muscles were clenched tightly, his smile too forced.

“You’re in pain,” Merlin stated.

“Well, look who’s a master physician,” Gwaine said, his tone easy despite his words. “Did you tell that with your magic?”

“With my very normal eyes,” Merlin said, smiling.

“Too bad,” Gwaine said. “It would have been grand.”

“Why is this so exciting for you?”

Merlin couldn’t understand it, especially when everyone else (meaning Arthur) was so horrified.

“Because we can finally talk about it,” Gwaine said. “And you’re powerful, Merlin. You could beat His Royal Highness by blinking your eyes.”

“So you’re attracted to power,” Merlin said, adjusting Gwaine’s pillow for him.

“Are my feelings that obvious?” Gwaine said, teasing.

Merlin blanched as he realized what he’d said.

“You know what I meant,” he said and quickly considered a sleeping spell on Gwaine instead of himself.

“Yes, but it’s much more fun this way,” Gwaine said, and then clenched his jaw again.

Merlin was concerned.

“I don’t care what Arthur will say,” Merlin said, holding his hands over Gwaine. “I’m going to heal you some more.”

“Ic pe purhhaele pin licsare. Ic pe purhhaele pin licsare,” he whispered, sending energy and strength. 

It was still best if Gwaine’s body healed on its own, but it had gone through an immense trauma, and it could use some help along the way.

“I like it when you’re defiant,” Gwaine said, his color better already. “That’s perfect, thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Merlin said simply, sitting back. “Do you mind if I ask you a question?”

“You want to know how I found out,” Gwaine said.

“Yes.”

“It wasn’t any one occasion,” Gwaine said, tucking his arms back under his head, looking much improved. “There’s always been something about you, but a lot of little things just added everything up for me. I overheard that weird midget at the bridge talking to you, calling you magic. And that was a very convenient fire at Jarl’s castle when Arthur and I were fighting. Other things like that. It started to be a little ridiculous how often we’d all wake up or come back and you’d just be sitting there with some story about how somebody else had done something that fixed it all. Wasn’t that hard to figure out really.”

“Other people found it hard enough,” Merlin mumbled.

“Other people see what they want to see,” Gwaine said knowingly. “They don’t want to mess with the way things are because then they’d have to deal with the revelation.”

“Why did you never say anything?” Merlin asked, not really wanting to talk about Arthur.

“Cause you never did,” Gwaine said. “You’re not my only friend anymore, but you are my first. You get special treatment.”

“You’ve always been there for me,” Merlin said, “if there wasn’t a tavern around, that is. Thank you.”

“Don’t go getting all girly on me,” Gwaine said.

“I won’t,” Merlin said, holding his hand up. “I promise.”

But he couldn’t help but think back to how Gwaine always wanted to help, seeing when Merlin needed it more than a lot of people. Gwaine hadn’t even questioned it when Merlin asked for his assistance traveling to the Perilous Lands. He’d practically forced his help on Merlin to rescue Gaius when Morgana had kidnapped him. And just a few days ago, Gwaine had gone with Merlin on a mysterious journey with no idea why, telling him he hoped Merlin found what he was looking for.

“You’re thinking too hard,” Gwaine told him. “What’s churning in that brain of yours?”

Merlin smiled faintly.

“I was looking for my magic,” he said, fiddling with the side of the bed. “When we went to the Valley. I had lost it when Morgana sent a creature to steal it from me. I knew Arthur was heading to Camlann, to his end, and I needed my magic back. So I went to the Valley of the Fallen Kings, to the Crystal Cave, hoping I could gain it back.”

“And you did,” Gwaine said.

“Did I ever,” Merlin said. “More magic than I know what to do with.”

“But that doesn’t seem to excite you as much as I think it would me,” Gwaine said.

“Magic isn’t a game,” Merlin said. “That much of Uther’s paranoia is true. A lot of harm can be done by magic if you’re not careful. I’ve caused enough myself to know.”

“But couldn’t we turn Leon into a frog the next time he signs me up for extra patrol duty? Just once.”

Merlin laughed.

“I refuse to be your personal revenge sorcerer.”

“You’re no fun,” Gwaine said. 

“But you protected my secret anyway.”

“You save my life when it needs it. It’s a give and take situation. Thank you for the lake.”

“You’re welcome. Of course.”

Gwaine’s face darkened and he looked away.

“Don’t know as it was the right thing. I did put everyone in danger; almost got Arthur killed.”

“Don’t talk like that,” Merlin said, horrified. “That’s a terrible thing to say.”

“I know,” Gwaine said, “and I don’t mean it like that. I just did something stupid. Doesn’t seem worth you being exposed like that.”

Merlin furrowed his forehead trying to understand what Gwaine meant until it dawned on him.

“Gwaine, do you think Arthur found out because of you?”

“He…didn’t?”

Gwaine’s face was comical in its confusion.

“No, he found out because I told him. When I needed to heal him.”

“Oh.”

“You’re such an idiot,” Merlin said.

“Well, I couldn’t remember exactly what happened.”

“I told you Arthur already knew, there at the lake.”

“Right,” Gwaine said, squinting his eyes like he was seeing something far away.

“Even if you were the cause, you absolutely didn’t need to die for it. I’ve got plenty of magic. Magic coming out of my eyeballs as it so happens. Enough to save you. And just because you aren’t my only friend either, doesn’t mean that I can afford to lose any of them.”

“Slow down,” Gwaine said, holding his hands out in defense. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to put that on you. I’ve been feeling a bit guilty, I guess, since I folded under a little torture.”

“Let me tell you a little story,” Merlin said.

“Do you have to? I have the feeling it’s going to make me feel foolish.”

“Everything makes you foolish, Gwaine,” Merlin said, smirking at him.

“Point. Carry on.”

“Once there was a servant who served the biggest prat of a King there ever was and they were attacked by bandits. This servant and his King were making a strategic retreat when the servant was wounded and realized the King would never make it out unless he sacrificed himself. So, using his considerable magical talent, he caused a rockslide, separating him and the bandits from the King.”

“Do you have to tell it like that?”

“Quiet, am I telling the story or not?”

“Carry on again,” Gwaine said, sounding like he was trying not to laugh. 

Merlin felt like laughing slightly himself.

“Now the next time the servant opened his eyes he found himself in a hovel, tied up, face to face with an evil sorceress who was currently trying to kill the King. She presented him with a snake with many heads. This snake was called the Fomorroh and it was very evil. He felt the worst pain he’d ever felt when she cut off a snake head and inserted it into his skin with the intention to control him through the snake. He was no longer himself, but wholly controlled by it, with one mission, to kill the King.”

“Really? I would’ve thought you’d have succeeded.”

Merlin shot him a look.

“Luckily, the sorceress did not know this servant was so magical or he might have succeeded in his mission. As it is, he tried crossbows, swords, poisoned food, lethal bathwater, everything he could think of. Fortunately for him, the court physician and a brave handmaiden figured out that he was acting oddly and rendered him unconscious. They discovered what was happening to him and a way to temporarily suspend the will of the Fomorroh until he could find a way to destroy the head of the snake, which was the only way to kill it. So he had to go back to the hovel and find the snake. He needed to disguise himself though, so he drank an aging potion and became a form he’d sometimes used before. On his way to the hovel he encountered some knights who tried to arrest him. This he could not have so he knocked them all unconscious.”

“You!” Gwaine said, pointing at him, seemingly speechless for once. “You.”

Merlin smiled, enjoying this more than he probably should have.

“After that he had a duel with the sorceress and won, though that was not the end of her, and destroyed the snakes, freeing himself from the evil influence that would have made him do what he would otherwise never have done. The end.”

“You’re a cruel man, Merlin,” Gwaine said, “making me listen to all that. And so you’re the old man we met in the woods. The sorcerer who killed the King? Who apparently did some weird love spell on Arthur and Gwen?”

“All very separate occasions with their own stories,” Merlin said. “But I think you’re forgetting the moral of the story.”

“Which is?”

“You’re not the only one to have done something foolish while under the control of magic. Even someone as powerful as me is subject to it.”

“My foolish thing was riding out there in the first place,” Gwaine mumbled.

“Okay, fine,” Merlin said. “But it doesn’t negate the knightly heroics and years of semi-faithful service you’ve served.”

“I told you once titles meant nothing, that it was what you did that mattered. I may have been born a noble, Merlin, but my acts of the last few days haven’t been very noble. I don’t know that I belong here anymore.”

“Not you too,” Merlin said. “Does everyone have to have an identity crisis at once? It’s really hard to deal with when I’m having one of my own.”

“You, an identity crisis?” Gwaine scoffed. “Merlin, you’re the only one who ever has anything put together around here.”

“In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m pretty much in limbo right now. Big magic, don’t even know if I still have a job, technically should be condemned to death for existing…”

“So you’re saying your problems are worse than mine,” Gwaine said, rising to the bait Merlin was setting for him.

“A smidge, maybe,” Merlin said, trying not to smile.

Everything he was saying was true, of course, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t use it to help a friend.

“You-" Gwaine said and then stopped, “-are much too clever for your own good. Fine, I’ll stop feeling sorry for myself.”

“I mean it,” Merlin said. “You belong here. Arthur’s ten times the man Uther was or you wouldn’t even be here right now. In more ways than one. He’ll see beyond your actions to your heart.”

Gwaine smiled slyly.

“This is me taking that beautiful speech and turning it back around on you.”

Merlin sighed.

“Right. Okay, I’ll take my own advice.”

“Aren’t you glad you healed me?” Gwaine asked cheekily.

“Yes,” Merlin said begrudgingly. “Now, you need to sleep. I didn’t heal you back to perfection, just to not on death’s door.”

“Like you did Arthur, it’s clear the sorcerer was playing favorites,” Gwaine said.

“Believe me, that was a whole other thing,” Merlin said. “Now go to sleep.”

“When this is all over, I’m going to quiz you for days,” Gwaine warned him.

“Get in line,” Merlin said.

He stood up and took his flame with him.

“That is amazing,” Gwaine whispered. “Night, Merlin.”

“Good night, Gwaine,” he said.

Merlin went back to bed, feeling a lot better than he had when he first went to sleep. It seemed people were mostly okay with him having magic. Perhaps he and Gwaine were having a rather similar problem of guilt. Merlin knew there were a lot of things he needed to atone for, worse than Gwaine’s singular act of rebellion.

And tomorrow, if Arthur was ready, Merlin would confess them all. All the worse things, the things that Merlin still had nightmares about. If Arthur still had qualms after that, so be it. Merlin would protect him from afar. But he couldn’t let Arthur go any further without knowing the deeper truths. His magic felt more settled with that thought and before he knew it Merlin had drifted to sleep without having to resort to magic or tricks.

*** 

Gaius woke Merlin up the next morning with a list of chores to do just in case Arthur didn’t need him and a cold breakfast that was still made up out of Merlin’s favorite foods and tasted beyond wonderful.

“You missed your calling,” Merlin said. “You should have been a cook.”

“And you should have been a court jester, these things happen,” Gaius said dryly. 

“So, I’m off to face my fate,” Merlin said. “If I’m not back soon, I leave you all my neckerchiefs.”

“You’re awfully chipper this morning,” Gaius said, sounding surprised. “I would have thought otherwise.”

Merlin paused, trying to think why he was in such a good mood.

“I think this is really the beginning, Gaius, there was an end, like the prophecy said, and now we’re beginning the part I’ve wanted to see since I came to Camelot.”

“I hope you’re right, Merlin,” Gaius said, smiling.

Merlin smiled back and made his way through the familiar halls to Arthur’s door.

He knocked tentatively and waited.

There was a muffled curse from the other side and then Gwen’s placating voice and Merlin knew it was all right.

He opened the door but came in with his hand over his eyes, a method he’d had to perfect over the last four years.

“Everyone decent?” he asked.

“Merlin, you’re a pox on humanity,” Arthur said grumpily.

“Does that mean yes?” Merlin asked.

“Come on in, Merlin,” Gwen’s voice said, sounding as amused as it normally did on these morning wake up calls.

Merlin took his hand away and inwardly groaned at the wet towels and clothes flung all over the floor and the full bathtub. Gwen was lying in the bed, the covers fully pulled up to her neck, Arthur was scrambling over her, a sheet wrapped around his lower body, hair flying every which way, cursing as he tripped over one of the towels.

“I certainly hope you both enjoyed yourselves last night,” Merlin said, grumbling, starting to pick everything up.

“Aren’t you forgetting something, Merlin?” Arthur asked pointedly.

Merlin’s heart sank. Apparently he couldn’t just act like nothing had happened until Arthur was ready to talk to him again.

“Uh, no?”

Arthur looked like he was trying not to laugh.

“Well, apart from the fact that your double life as a sorcerer has not yet been resolved, I don’t see a breakfast tray in those clumsy hands of yours.”

Merlin grinned.

“Coming right up, Sire.”

Merlin bustled out to the kitchen, grabbing all the best food he could find, using the excuse he normally did, of needing it for the King.

When he got back Gwen was in the inner rooms behind the screen, being attended to by her maid, Sarah, and Arthur was fully dressed, sorting through reports at the table.

“Ah, Merlin,” Arthur said, as if Merlin hadn’t seen him ten minutes earlier, completely disheveled, “late as usual. Sit down please.”

“Sit down?” Merlin asked as if that was a fully foreign concept.

“Yes, sit down,” Arthur said, sounding annoyed. “As in, bend your legs and plant your skinny bottom on one of those chairs. Or do you need me to explain the concept of a chair?”

“I meant what for?”

“Shouldn’t a King just be obeyed without all this inane questioning of his orders?” Arthur asked the air.

“Somehow considering you I don’t think that would be wise,” Merlin said, sitting down.

“Now, Merlin,” Arthur said, ignoring him, picking up some of his papers, and putting them in front of Merlin, “I want you to give me your advice for the positioning of the knights based on how you think Morgana is likely to attack magically.”

Merlin gaped.

“What?”

“Is your brain injured even more than normal?” Arthur inquired.

“Aren’t we even going to talk about my magic? About my having lied? About the fact I’m not even allowed to exist in Camelot? Don’t you have anything to say about what we talked about yesterday?”

Arthur sighed and laid the papers aside.

“Yes, you’re probably right, let’s get that out of the way. Suffice it to say I’ve decided to overlook your idiocy in not telling me the truth and use your talents in defeating Morgana. After that’s over with, we can discuss your position here and the position of magic in Camelot. Good enough? All right, let’s move on.”

“Arthur, I have to tell you some things,” Merlin said. “Things you need to know before you make those kinds of decisions.”

Arthur looked pained, like he didn’t want to know any more secrets. 

“Is that absolutely necessary?” he gritted out through his teeth.

Merlin thought about that for a few seconds, but decided yes, yes it was.

“I wouldn’t want you to find out these things from anyone else.”

Arthur looked at Merlin, studying his face, and then nodded.

“Guinevere,” he called.

“Yes, Arthur?”

“Merlin and I will be at the Round Table. You may join us there when you’re finished if you wish. Breakfast is finally here.”

“Of course,” she said, sounding utterly unconcerned. 

Merlin wished he had her confidence.

Arthur led the way and they walked in silence. Merlin was going over everything he wanted to say in his mind, not wanting to leave anything out, but say it in the best way possible. He’d been full of hope this morning, but now that it came down to it, he was pretty sure this ranked up there as one of the worst things he’d ever have to do.

Arthur dismissed the guards to the outside of the room and gestured for Merlin to have a seat. He did, trying his best not to fidget.

“I think it might be best if I went chronologically,” he said. “Hold all questions till the end, please,” he added, trying to lighten the mood.

“Probably not going to happen,” Arthur said, but there was a slight smile at the corner of his mouth.

“You already know about how I came to find out about our destiny. Well, the dragon told me other things too. The first really major thing was that Mordred was destined to kill you.” Merlin hurried on, ignoring Arthur’s squawk of protest. “When you rescued him, the dragon told me not to help you, saying I should let him die. But I…couldn’t do it. He was just a small child and I didn’t understand destiny that well yet. So, I let him go.”

“That I would not condemn you for,” Arthur said. “I would never allow such a thing.”

“I know,” Merlin said, smiling sadly. “That is your greatest strength and your greatest weakness.”

“We’re on your confessions here,” Arthur pointed out.

“The other thing Kilgharrah told me was that Morgana was destined to form an alliance of evil with Mordred. He only ever called her…the witch.” Merlin blanched at the utter look of pain on Arthur’s face. “I didn’t want to believe him; Morgana was so good and kind. But she started to change. I watched her, Arthur, and she became so angry with Uther, especially as her own magic started to grow. And I didn’t tell her about me, maybe if I had…she would have had an ally, someone to confide in, but I couldn’t. She grew so bitter, even conspiring to kill Uther right when Gwen’s father died. But she changed her mind at the last second, so I kept watching.”

“Even back then?” Arthur asked. “Even then she was…”

He trailed off, his voice broken, it seemed. Merlin hated going through this, but he had to keep going. The worst was yet to come, after all.

“She wasn’t kidnapped by the Druids that one time; she went to them to learn about her magic. I-I told her to go, not realizing what Uther would do. Mordred was there too. We did not part well.”

“You knew she had magic,” Arthur said. “You didn’t tell me.”

“No,” Merlin said, resolutely not looking at him. “That was not my secret to tell and I feared what Uther would do. Gaius had always known of her seer gift and had been keeping it from her all her life for her own good. After I found out, well, I went along with it; I was trying to protect her, I just, I was- I didn’t know what to do. I thought that if it were me I’d want to know about my magic, but Gaius was so sure…still that’s why I sent her to the Druids. Anyway…Morgana just became so angry and somehow, I don’t know how, she got in touch with Morgause and started to scheme against Uther. That day…the day Camelot was asleep, Morgause cast the spell. We kept wondering why Morgana was the only one awake-" Merlin didn’t want to go any further, this was one of his deepest secrets, the thing he was most regretful about. “Morgana was the source of the spell.”

“What does that mean?” Arthur asked, his face anxious.

“You can’t do a spell that powerful without a focus; you need some…energy to keep it going.”

“Could you do it?”

“Back then, no. Now…probably.”

Arthur nodded, absorbing the information.

“Continue.”

“I had to break the spell or you would die, Uther would die, Gwen, Gaius, all of Camelot. But the only way to break it-"

“Tell me you’re not the cause of her being lost,” Arthur said, fingers clenching into fists.

Merlin didn’t bother trying to stop the tears falling down his face. He had no excuse, not really.

“I-I poisoned her,” he said quietly, watching Arthur closely. “I gave her water laced with hemlock. She-she choked and she- I held her.”

Arthur shook his head and stood up.

“No, no, Merlin.”

“Morgause came in,” Merlin continued, making his voice stronger, “she truly cared for Morgana, she wanted to cure her. But I made her- I made her call off the Knights first, break the spell. Then I gave her the poison so she could cure Morgana. That’s when you came in and Morgause took her away.”

Arthur was quiet for agonizing minutes, and then his fist pounded into the table several times, leaving bloody strips along his knuckles. He glared at Merlin, true anger on his face.

“I should take your head from your shoulders for what you did to my sister,” he said, his voice so strangled in its attempt at calm that Merlin could barely understand him.

“I know,” Merlin said, not saying anything more.

Arthur paced around the table three times before he came back to Merlin. It was a rather large table and Merlin waited, his stomach clenched into knots, wanting nothing more than to vanish into thin air. He’d dreaded this moment for years.

“I assume there’s more,” Arthur said, finally stopping, his voice still dangerously angry.

“I’m sorry,” Merlin said, looking directly at him. “I regret that day more than you can know. But I have no other excuse to give.”

“Don’t,” Arthur said, holding up his hand. “Perhaps, perhaps I know why you did it, but, Merlin- Merlin, she was my sister. I never knew why she would hate me so much, but you, you drove her to that. I lost her because of you.”

Arthur’s voice was ragged with anger and pain and Merlin’s heart clenched with his guilt, all the anguish of the years pouring through him, forcing through his mouth in the form of words, some sort of apology to give, some sort of justification to make, wanting somehow to make Arthur understand even if Merlin knew he never could.

“I know,” Merlin said, standing up as well, unable to take it anymore. “Arthur, I know that. Every life that she’s ever taken is on my conscience. All the blood she’s spilled, on my hands. I would erase that if I could. But I have to- I can’t let that stop me from doing what is right. Even if I wish I could have done differently then. She made her choice long before I ever gave her that water skin. The two of us, her and I, together damned her long ago.”

He turned, not wanting to see Arthur’s face, and gripped the back of his chair, relishing the pain as it pressed against his fingers. This was far harder than he’d ever imagined it would be.

He flinched when he felt a hand on his shoulders, Arthur’s, hard yet not punishing.

“Finish your story, Merlin,” Arthur said more gently than Merlin had any right to.

Merlin nodded, swallowing hard, trying to find where to start.

“The dragon helped me, but not for free. He was angry, angry at Uther for killing his kin, angry at the Great Purge. He wanted me to sacrifice my mother, wanted terrible things to bring about the destiny you and I are fated to share. Our relationship grew cold, bargains and deals made between us. His information for my promise to free him.”

“You freed him, didn’t you? And he attacked.”

Merlin nodded, wiping at his eyes.

“All those people are dead because of me. My magic didn’t work on him, I couldn’t stop him. He was determined to make Uther pay. I kept my word at the expense of other people’s lives.”

Arthur closed his eyes, pinching his forehead.

“We went to find the Dragonlord, you and me, to stop him.”

“He was my father,” Merlin said softly. 

Arthur opened his eyes again.

“Your father?”

“I didn’t know until we were to go,” Merlin said dully, feeling more emotionally spent than he cared to be ever again. “Gaius told me. I was so excited to meet him. All my life I’d felt a giant hole inside me, a lack of guidance. I’ve had slurs cast at me for being fatherless. And I thought he’d be wonderful, like Gaius. But he was bitter and spent, still…he saved your life and then he came anyway, coming to Camelot even though it would mean his death. He called me son.”

Merlin broke off again, walking away, trying to gain clarity in his mind to tell the story. He leaned his back against the wall.

“And I told you not to cry for him,” Arthur said quietly, his gaze piercing.

Merlin nodded again.

“You didn’t know. He- he saved my life. And he told me I was now the last Dragonlord. So I had more power. More power I didn’t know what to do with. I didn’t know how to be one but I had to try.”

“We went out together to face the dragon,” Arthur said wonderingly. “You came out, without any armor or weapon. I thought you very brave indeed. I still do.”

At those words, Merlin’s air left him in a rush and he slid down the wall, staring up at his King.

“I found my dragon voice,” he said, feeling numb. “You were unconscious. I was very angry and I wanted to kill Kilgharrah. He asked me not to, as he was the last of his kind. So I told him to fly away and never come back.”

“And then you let me think I’d killed him.”

“I suppose telling everyone I was a Dragonlord and responsible for his attack in the first place would have been a better idea?”

Arthur sighed, shaking his head.

“No, I guess I can see why you would not want to do that.”

“Uh, that was everything about that, I think,” Merlin said. “Till Morgana came back.”

“That must have made you very nervous,” Arthur said, the accusation creeping back into his voice.

“Terrified,” Merlin said. “But she told me she understood why I did it. She said she’d seen the error of her ways. I was so…happy; I thought we had her back. But we didn’t. She was meeting with Morgause, she had enchanted Uther to lose his mind, and she was a spy within our midst. You thought I’d run off, but Morgana caught me following her and they almost killed me.”

“How did you escape?” Arthur asked, brow furrowed, like he was trying to remember what Merlin was talking about.

Merlin guessed Arthur didn’t replay things like that over and over in his head like Merlin had for years, preparing for this moment if he was honest with himself.

“I called the dragon,” Merlin said. “Ironic, I know. But they had bound my magic, even though they didn’t know I had it. I came back to Camelot for the siege and found Morgana raising an undead army. I tried to speak to her, but she wouldn’t listen. She had become so cold. My fault again, I know. So we fought.”

“With magic?”

“Swords.”

“Why aren’t you dead then?”

“Magic.”

“She didn’t see?”

“No, I’m rather good at convenient bouts of unconsciousness, I’m afraid.” Arthur narrowed his eyes so Merlin hurried on. “I stopped the skeletons and she got the credit.”

“You-you wanted to tell me something about her,” Arthur said, his eyes far away. “You had pulled me aside.”

“I wanted to tell you it was her. I didn’t think you’d listen, but I had to try.”

“But she had already taken the credit.”

“Who’d believe the word of a servant over the King’s ward?”

“So…why didn’t she expose you as having poisoned her?”

“I don’t know. I think she thought it would expose her too much, her connection with Morgause. But she certainly hated me. There was never anything kind between us, not even acting as she did with the rest of you, ever again.”

“Understandable.”

“There’s more,” Merlin said.

“I don’t know if I can take more,” Arthur said and Merlin appreciated his honesty.

“I know, I just have to tell you or everything, everything we’ve ever worked for, my whole life, it means nothing.” Arthur silently gave a gesture to go ahead. “I saw a vision of Morgana killing Uther in the crystal of Neotid. I wanted to stop it so when I saw her sneaking out at night I tried to- it went wrong and she fell.” Merlin stopped as he saw realization dawn in Arthur, but the other man didn’t say anything. “I didn’t mean to, Arthur, I swear. And I didn’t know how to help her. Her injuries were beyond my abilities to heal. I consoled myself thinking it was for the best, maybe this would save her from doing any more evil. But you were all so grieved, you and Gwen and even Uther. I had to save her.”

“Yes, you did,” Arthur said, eyes dark with anger.

“I asked Kilgharrah, but he wouldn’t help me. So I-I made him. Arthur, you might not understand, but that’s a terrible thing for a Dragonlord to do. To misuse the power he has, to take away the free will of another living thing. I did that to him and saved her. But she tried to kill Uther anyway. I stopped her only just in time. I made the vision come true by trying to stop it. After that she knew she was Uther’s daughter and she wanted the throne. And you were in the way.”

“What else did she do?” Arthur said, using the tone of a man who wanted to get the worst over with.

“She was the one who had Gwen and Elyan kidnapped in order to kill you at Fyrien. She gave you a bracelet that nearly sapped your life force on your quest to the Perilous Lands. She was the one who had Uther discover you and Gwen on your picnic that day and planted the poultice in your room. She gave the information to Morgause that allowed her to get the cup of life. But you know what happened after that.”

“Anything else?”

“We already talked about your father. So…Agravaine. I knew almost right away that he was not…loyal, but you wouldn’t listen to me and I had no proof. Not without giving away my own secret. Which was selfish of me. And cowardly. There’s a bit in there about Lancelot, but you should have Gwen talk to you about that part. I told her about it yesterday. And then…I, when Agravaine attacked Ealdor, I called the dragon. He killed all those men for me. In the Caves Agravaine found me, found out I was Emrys. I-I killed him.”

“You’ve been busy, certainly,” Arthur said, starting to laugh, but the kind of laughter that involved hysteria and hardship, not anything good. "Anything else?"

“I guess, there’s just…Mordred. Because of the prophecy I didn’t want him around. I saw another vision of him killing you right before we met him again. Then you made him a knight and it seemed like he had changed, and I didn't want to make the same mistake I made with Morgana, but I couldn't trust him."

"I always wondered at you not liking him," Arthur said musingly. "You get along with everyone."

"How could I like someone who was destined to kill you?" Merlin hurried on. "When we went to see the Disir and he was injured, I didn't heal him. I…I refused to. And I told you magic wasn't worth anything. I betrayed my very self. I’d had to do it before but…well, in the end your punishment for that was Mordred living. It was all for nothing."

"Merlin…"

"Mordred kept proving himself loyal. He knew I was Emrys all along, but he never said. He knew I was the Dolma. He asked for my trust and I couldn't give it. But I tried to see the good in him and there was good, until Cara. I-I told you he was going to help her escape because I wanted to keep him in Camelot. I wanted him to reconcile with you so that he wouldn't run straight to Morgana. But he did anyway. Even in that I failed."

Arthur looked at Merlin and opened his mouth and then closed it.

"Is that everything?"

Merlin laughed himself, bitterly and without hope.

"Arthur, it would take weeks to tell you everything, but those are the things, the things I hate about myself." Merlin tried to stop his voice from shaking, but it was no good. "I-I wish sometimes that it were different. I know you know what it's like to make decisions that affect other people's lives. I've watched you carry the weight of this kingdom, but…I just want you to know that I- Arthur, I carried it with you. It was my burden, my secret burden, and sometimes I thought it would destroy me. It's the hardest thing I've ever done and I failed many times along the way. I will submit to whatever punishment you think I deserve."

Merlin buried his head in his knees because he couldn't stand to look at Arthur anymore. At the man he called his King and his closest friend and the person he valued most in the whole world. To do so would be to see the death of everything he'd ever held dear.

There was silence for a long time and then a shuffling noise as Arthur sat down next to Merlin.

"I didn't like hearing any of that." Merlin didn't say anything, didn't look up. Arthur was quiet for a moment and then spoke again. "I guess I never thought to find out what you were doing, what you were going through. You don't even go to the tavern, do you?"

Merlin gave a hiccoughing sob and shook his head, thinking how inappropriate laughing would be at this moment.

"No, the only times I've ever been in a tavern were with you."

“But you are unnaturally good at betting games when you’re in them,” Arthur said coaxingly.

Merlin nodded, but still didn’t trust himself enough to lift his head up.

“You cheated. Again.”

“Sometimes you need to be taken down a peg or two,” Merlin ventured to say. “I’ll pay you back.”

“I doubt you could do that if you mucked out the stables for free for five years,” Arthur said sharply, yet with the tiniest bit of humor.

“Um…sorry?”

"Let me tell you some things I remember," Arthur said after a moment. "I remember an idiot boy calling out a great King in front of an assembly and drinking poison meant for his prince."

"The poison was actually meant for me," Merlin mumbled, but he couldn't seem to stop telling the truth now that he'd started.

"Did you know that at the time?" Arthur asked.

"No."

"Then shut up. I remember a servant bursting into the throne room, proclaiming he'd done sorcery to save the life of a servant girl."

"I really had done the sorcery."

"You're not making this easy, Merlin. Shut up or I'll put you in the stocks."

"Sorry," Merlin said, gaining enough courage to peek his head up, but still not looking at Arthur.

"I remember a son forsaking everything he had built for himself to singlehandedly take on bandits who had struck his mother."

"Didn't do it singlehandedly."

Merlin got a cuff on the arm for that remark.

"I remember a certain someone again demanding to drink poison to fix another man's mistake."

"Can't argue with that one."

Arthur glared at him.

"I remember a friend denying his very nature to keep someone else from killing his own father."

Merlin looked at him askance.

"You…know?"

"I'm not a simpleton, Merlin," Arthur said. "I can put two and two together however hard you've tried to keep things from me."

"It would have destroyed you if you'd killed him," Merlin said.

"How much of you did it destroy to deny magic?" Merlin didn't say anything and Arthur continued. "I remember a sorcerer who transformed himself into an old man so he could take the blame for a supposed crime and nearly got himself burnt at the stake."

"You should really stop now," Merlin said.

"You got to go on forever with your list that I didn't want to hear," Arthur said.

"Stop it!" Merlin said, standing up and facing him. "I don't deserve absolution."

"Did I deserve absolution for the destruction of that Druid camp?" Arthur asked, standing up. "How about for killing the unicorn and condemning my own kingdom? What about murdering Caerleon's King? Allowing Gaius to be questioned like a common criminal and kidnapped? Telling Guinevere I could no longer be seen with her? Trying to kill Lancelot in a rage? Refusing Mordred's request and gaining his eternal hatred? How about every time I made a decision in battle that cost my men their lives?"

"You did those things out of ignorance or fear or passion. I was the one who kept the facts from you."

"I can recall numerous times you tried to stop me from doing a lot of those things and others and I would not listen to you."

"But I-" Merlin stopped, suddenly feeling very strange. "Why are we arguing for each other?" he asked.

"Because you are being an idiot," Arthur said calmly. "Merlin, I spent all last night learning how to trust myself again and now here you present me with a list of your sins. You have rotten timing."

"Except when I'm saving your life," Merlin said, feeling a million times better for no reason at all really except that Arthur didn't look like he hated him.

No more than usual, that is.

"I'm still not sure that ever happened," Arthur said.

Merlin smiled and then sobered.

"I am sorry, Arthur. What…what's going to happen?"

Arthur looked straight at him and for a second Merlin was almost blinded by the authority coming off him in waves.

"You and I are going to go deal with Morgana once and for all. Things will change when we get back. You won't lie to me, ever again. I will watch you very closely to make sure you don't. If you ever betray my trust again, I will hunt you to the ends of the earth. That's as far as I've gotten and you'll just have to deal with it. I can't just snap my fingers and make magic legal again, nor do I know if I want to. I still don't know how I feel and you've given me a lot of new information. So be patient for once in your life and let me deal with it."

"I can do that," Merlin said. "We're…okay?"

"We're on the way," Arthur said.

The door opened and Gwen came in. She radiated concern when she looked at them.

"Arthur!" she said, rushing to him and grabbing his hand. "Your hand. Is everything all right?" she asked, looking searchingly at them both.

Arthur looked at Merlin and then clapped him by the shoulder.

"It will be. One day."


	10. Have You Forgotten What You Have and What is Yours

Gwen stretched onto her side, relishing the slight soreness in her muscles. A secret smile played around her mouth as she thought about what she had been doing the night before. She glanced behind her, but Arthur was still sleeping soundly, arm splayed around her middle, mouth open, his legendary snoring much quieter than normal. She spared a quick, ridiculous thought that perhaps Merlin had or could cure Arthur's snoring for good. 

She always thought Arthur looked much more peaceful when asleep. The burden he carried was so heavy and it showed in his face, but when he was sleeping he didn’t look so careworn and she loved to watch him sleep. He’d caught her at it before and liked to tease her about it, but she was unrepentant. She wasn’t in the right position to be able to gaze at him at the moment and was loathe to move for fear she’d wake him. He was a light sleeper on principle and she could only imagine how little sleep he’d gotten the last few days.

Their lives had gotten more complicated, not only with the battle and Merlin’s revelation, but Morgana’s attack had squelched the idea of a Camelot at peace. That could only be once Morgana was dead. It was a terrible thought considering their history. Gwen mourned the loss of their friendship every day and she’d never found its like since. None of the ladies at the court had any love for their common born Queen and none of the girls Gwen had used to spend time with felt comfortable doing so now that she was Queen. Once Gwen had entertained far off dreams of being with Arthur one day and being able to spend time with Morgana as an equal. Those dreams had died years ago.

However, Gwen’s compassion had suffered a serious blow with the horrendous crime Morgana had propagated against Gwen by stealing her will. Not only was it a heinous abuse of power and exactly the kind of thing Morgana had always railed against, but Gwen was the one who had to live with the consequences. She had to walk by the stables and see the absence of someone she’d murdered in cold blood. She had to look at Arthur and Merlin every day and know she’d tried to kill them. It was unbearable at times and often she found herself shaking with the effort to control her rage at what had been done to her, her fear that it could happen again, and her guilt about what she’d done.

So, it was with sadness, but mostly calm, that she thought about Morgana’s impending death. For that was how it had to be, either Morgana or Arthur would perish, and the real Gwen could never want Arthur dead. No, her worry was for Arthur, for Merlin, for the tatters of their friendship, and for how she would deal with them being gone. She found herself wishing that the scouts would never come back and she and Arthur could just stay in this bed forever.

It was a haven for her, a place where all the worries fell from them, all of her normal reserve and his normal arrogance was washed away. The two of them didn’t have to be people separated by their backgrounds and experiences or the King and Queen of a great kingdom. They were Arthur and Guinevere, man and wife. And that was all she’d ever wanted.

Last night had been an incredible experience, an oasis of tranquility, far away from their usual cares. Arthur had been so close to her, she almost could have sworn they were reading each other’s minds. Perhaps it was his absence and return from danger, but their lovemaking had been extra special for her, tinged with an urgency far beyond their usual needs, yet still tender and full of love.

She’d been torn at his lack of confidence in himself after learning Merlin’s secret and she’d striven to speak words that would build him up. She’d spoken nothing but the truth, nothing but what she’d always felt and believed, but somehow it had broken through to him. She’d felt powerful and awed at the thought that the greatest man in the land would listen to her, but that was often the case with her and Arthur. She could never understand what he saw in her and why he didn’t see in himself what she saw. And he always said the same, only opposite. The two fulfilled each other and Gwen was honored to be part of such a union.

The light of day had not yet dulled the glow of their night together and Gwen was content to lay there, feeling his warmth against her back, knowing he was alive and there, his heart beating reassuringly. All too soon there was a knock on the door and Merlin’s tentative voice sounded through their chambers.

Arthur woke up suddenly, smacking his head against the headboard, and cursing loudly.

“It’s just Merlin,” she said reassuringly, calling for Merlin to come in, and she laughed and concentrated on making sure she was completely covered. 

Arthur wrapped a sheet around him, scrambling out of the bed as Merlin entered. She ignored their little spat, encouraging it almost as a return to normalcy.

Merlin looked positively relieved to be going and doing something as mundane as getting the King’s breakfast and Gwen pulled herself out of the bed, keeping a sheet around her too in case he came blundering back in as had happened before.

She stepped behind the screen and pulled a clean undergarment from the cupboard and slipped it on, calling out to Arthur.

“Can you summon Sarah for me please, Arthur?”

Arthur bellowed out into the hall while Gwen shook her head and picked up most of their mess from the night before, placing everything in one pile for Sarah or Merlin to gather for the laundry. She plucked up some clean breeches and a shirt for Arthur, bringing them out to him where he was going through some delivered reports, absently holding the sheet slung around his hips.

“Ah, thank you, Guinevere,” he said when he noticed her standing there.

She sighed and tutted.

“Honestly, where would you be without me?”

“The deepest, darkest well of sorrow,” he said dramatically, catching her around the waist and bringing her up against him.

“Arthur, Sarah will be here any minute,” she said, enjoying his kisses nonetheless.

“This is nothing she hasn’t seen us doing before,” he murmured against her lips, but released her.

“I’d rather I was the only one to see under that sheet,” she told him, whisking it away from him and leaving him to put his clothes on himself.

His rejoinder was interrupted by a knock at the door and Sarah entered and began to get Gwen ready for the day. Merlin came back not long after that and Gwen enjoyed listening to the muffled sounds of his and Arthur’s voices in the other room until Arthur called out that they were going to the Round Table and to have her join them later.

For some reason it seemed to take longer than normal to get dressed. Gwen supposed it was because she was anxious to join them and hear more of Merlin’s history and to keep them from misunderstanding each other as they were so wont to do. But Gwen’s hair had become rather tangled from her late night activities and it took forever to get it into its proper shape again. Sometimes she missed her simpler hairstyle of former years, but she knew how much Arthur loved her hair and she liked the way it looked herself whenever Sarah got done braiding it.

Gwen forced herself to sit and eat some breakfast, enjoying some light conversation with Sarah as she cleaned the room before Gwen made her way to the Round Table.

She was instantly concerned as she entered and felt the tension in the air, and saw the signs of tears on Merlin’s face and Arthur’s bloody knuckles.

“Arthur! Your hand.” She rushed to look at it and them more closely. “Is everything all right?”

“It will be. One day,” Arthur said, clapping Merlin on the shoulder.

She looked deeper. There were new lines of pain on Arthur’s face, new painful knowledge in his eyes. Merlin looked like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, but there was also a new sense of responsibility about him, as if he’d also shouldered more of a burden somehow.

“I missed a rather important conversation, didn’t I?” she asked.

Merlin shrugged and smiled at her, still teary-eyed.

“Merlin has led a full and much more interesting life than he’d led me to believe,” Arthur said. “And we shall tell you all in time, but I do need to check in with Leon about the scouts.”

He kissed Gwen on the cheek and left without even another glance at Merlin.

“Are you all right?” she asked when he’d gone.

Merlin blew out a breath of air and seemed to think for a minute.

“Well, he didn’t kill me right off, so that’s good. Also, he talked about good things that I’d done. I’d say that was Arthur’s version of being kind and compassionate.”

“Can you give me the short version of the conversation?” she asked, her curiosity getting the better of her. “I don’t want to pry if there were things just between the two of you and if it’s too much to do it again right away.”

“No,” Merlin said, his frame limp, “no, I’d just as soon do it all at once.”

With a shuddering voice he told her. Told her he’d poisoned Morgana, that he’d freed the dragon that had killed one of Gwen’s closest childhood friends, that he’d killed Agravaine, that he’d known Mordred was destined to kill Arthur.

Horror ran over Gwen the whole time he spoke and she kept stepping back from him, even though she wasn’t trying to. Merlin obviously noticed because he flinched every time she did it.

When he finished, dead air lay between them and Gwen had no words to say anything. She could not forgive him in that moment because it seemed that so much of what had gone wrong in her life might actually be laid at Merlin’s door.

She could understand the reasoning behind what he’d done, could understand the pressure he must have been under. Intellectually her mind knew all this, but she couldn’t reconcile it with the feelings of betrayal her heart was suffering. Perhaps this was the crushing weight Arthur had felt when he first heard. Perhaps there was a reason to keep secrets when the truth was so horrible.

She didn’t bother trying to hide her sadness when she looked at him.

“Did I gain Arthur back only to lose you?” Merlin finally asked, his voice dry with use.

She took a moment to think about it truly, to look at the man standing in front of her. A man with so much power he could destroy them all simply by thinking, but who chose to protect them instead, who had offered his life for both her and Arthur. He’d done terrible things, truly awful. Did the good outweigh the bad? Probably, yet that was not the point. Her heart was pounding at the thought of no more Merlin in her life and she searched his face, longing to see signs of the man she thought she knew.

And there it was, the slight twitching at the corners of his mouth, the bowed shoulders, the silly neckerchief, the way his hands moved as if to comfort her and then were forced back by the reason of his mind. There was her Merlin. But was that enough?

“I don’t know what to think,” she said finally. “If Arthur can find it in his heart to forgive you, surely I can do no less, but, Merlin, what you’ve told me is not right. It is not easy. I-I wish you had confided in me.”

He turned away, a self-deprecating smile on his face.

“Sometimes I wish I had.” He spoke on in a forced sounding jovial tone. “Well, it looks like secrecy has a price to pay. I guess I’ll always have Gaius.”

“Merlin,” she said and then stopped. “You are not alone. I can’t forgive you right now, but I will. I will not rest until I do. I have no desire to lose you.”

“I’ll take what I can get,” he said and then bowed deeply. “I’m so sorry, my lady.”

She nodded and then left, going to find Arthur.

He was back in their room, bolting down the remains of their breakfast.

“The scouts should be back by this evening,” he said, when he saw her. “We can start making pl- What’s wrong?”

“Merlin told me.”

He gathered her in his arms immediately, shushing her protests.

“I’m sorry, Guinevere.”

“It is not me he’s hurt,” Gwen said half-heartedly.

“He has hurt everyone who put their trust in him,” Arthur said firmly. He pulled back to look in her face. “I can understand your feelings. Of course I can. Who else better? But…I can’t live like that. You taught me that just last night. I have to make decisions based on what I feel is right and I know Merlin means well.”

“As do I,” Gwen said, “but that does not wipe out the past.”

“Why do we keep switching positions like this?” he asked. “I find it absolutely intolerable that I’m forced to be the one defending Merlin, just so you know.”

She smiled against his chest and felt better. As she’d said, if Arthur could forgive Merlin, she could too.

“I am as surprised as you,” she said. “I guess it just took longer to catch up to me.”

“And it will pass, I think,” Arthur said. “But I can easily reassign him if he will make you feel uncomfortable.”

Gwen sighed, thinking how very silly all of this was. It was Merlin, for goodness sake. Merlin was the safest thing in her life. But things had changed whether any of them wanted them to or not. It didn’t seem right anymore for Merlin to be stumbling around, cleaning up after them.

“I think Merlin would actually fit in better elsewhere,” she said. “Hasn’t he proved he is more than your servant? That the job was only a convenience to keep him close to you?”

“You may have a point,” he said. “But until then, I need him to help me take down Morgana. Will you be all right?”

“Will you?”

He smiled down at her.

“With you by my side, I can do anything. I haven’t forgiven him yet either, you know, I am still processing through his secrets. But I made the choice to trust him anyway. It will happen for you when you need it to.”

“The King is so wise,” Gwen said, dropping a slight curtsey.

“None of that,” he said, grabbing for her, but she ducked away.

“Yes, Sire,” she said, grinning, and he lunged at her, laughing.

“Your hand,” she said, grabbing it. “You’re going to get blood everywhere. Sit down and let me mend it for you. Or go to Gaius.”

“It’s nothing,” Arthur said. “I’ve had worse.”

“What did you do?” she asked quietly, winding a bandage around his hand.

They always had spare bandages for mishaps in their chambers, so much seemed to happen there.

“I punched the table when he told me about Morgana,” he said tightly.

“D-do you think that’s why she turned?” Gwen asked hesitantly.

“I’m sure that was a big part of why she decided she could no longer trust those she had called her friends. But I do believe Merlin when he says she had made her choice before that. And that…my father was the one who drove her away, without even realizing it.”

“Poor Morgana,” Gwen said, more for the woman she had known than for the woman who currently walked the earth.

“She has no more of my pity after what she did to you,” Arthur said, flexing his hand.

“That is not true and you know it,” Gwen said, wrapping her arms around him.

“I guess not,” Arthur said wearily, but that did not change anything and both of them knew it.

Neither of them would ever be able to forget the old Morgana. But neither could they forget the new one.

***

The next few days went by in a blur for Gwen. Morgana’s likely location had been decided upon and confirmed, though thankfully no more villages had been burned. The confirmation was secured by Merlin and Arthur riding out to see for themselves and a sickening dread lay in her stomach the entire time they were gone. They were not gone for long, but she almost felt like she'd lived for years in that time, she'd been so worried. Arthur wouldn't say much about the confrontation, but she knew they'd met Morgana in the forest.

After that there were many meetings with scouts and arguments between Merlin and Arthur about how to fight Morgana. There were discussions with the knights about battle strategy and Merlin’s new role amongst them. There were debates with the council about letting Gwen rule over them and the cold fear of somehow failing Camelot began to settle in her bones again.

She worried about Arthur, perhaps more than ever before, simply because she knew how close he had come to dying last time. For saving him she could forgive Merlin anything, but she still didn’t speak very much with him, not wanting to distract him or her with long drawn out discussions about the past.

The people grumbled as the outlying villagers started trickling into Camelot, taxing its food stores, despite what they’d brought with them. Camelot’s denizens were used to sieges and attacks, but there seemed to be a level of extra fear with this upcoming battle, as if everyone could sense that it would decide all. Gwen spent a lot of time utilizing her connections with the people and discovered they were both confident in their King and proud of her, but that confidence did not spread to the nobility, to those who were one step away from controlling Camelot if Arthur should fall.

She started to worry again, but she did not bother Arthur. She refused to and he was too busy to sense it as he normally would have. She could tell Merlin knew there was something dreadfully wrong with her, but he seemed to think it was because of him and did not approach her. She knew she was being stupid, but a doom began to press down on her no matter what reason or logic she used to drive it away. Her worries over her barrenness started to creep in until she started hatching wild ideas of adopting random children she saw on the streets or convincing Merlin to magic her a child. She wondered if this was what going crazy was like.

Then the day came where Arthur and Merlin rode out of Camelot surrounded by only his most trusted knights, leaving most of Camelot guarded. Their reasoning was that this would most likely be a magical battle and their greatest weapon and strategy was Merlin himself. The knights were a contingency and Arthur the bait, as Merlin had put it during one of the more escalated fights while planning.

Gwen stood at Arthur’s side before he mounted his horse.

“I haven’t forgotten my promise,” he whispered to her. “I will come back. Be here for me?”

“Always,” she said, smiling, knowing that if this was to be the last time they’d ever see each other, she wanted him to remember her happy. “Be careful.”

“You are the rightful Queen, Guinevere,” he said, hugging her tightly. “Don’t let anyone ever tell you differently. Promise me you’ll remember that.”

“I will try,” she said, honestly hoping she could. “Promise me you realize that you yourself are important to this kingdom. You need to come back to rule it.”

“I need to come back to you,” he insisted.

“I would like that,” she said simply, grasping his head as he bent to kiss her.

He mounted his horse and trotted to the head of the column. Merlin urged his horse to follow and Gwen couldn’t stand it anymore. Unforgiven or not, he was her friend and he was the best chance she had of keeping Arthur safe.

“Protect him, please,” she burst out. “Please, Merlin.” 

Merlin nodded gravely at her.

“With my life,” he said, his voice earnest with intensity.

“Thank you,” she said, trying to convey in tone what she still could not say in words. “And, Merlin,” she said as he turned away, “come back yourself.”

He smiled at her, a true Merlin smile, nothing hidden, everything bright.

“I always do.”

Gwen felt better for awhile, reassuring herself with Merlin’s promise. But the creeping feeling of inadequacy kept growing the more she dealt with the council and tried not to worry about Arthur and what was happening. They were in session and the lords were driving her insane with their mongering.

"The people are thronging at our gates, my lady," said Lord Theron. "We don't have the resources."

"We've checked the stores and the harvest this year was bountiful enough," Gwen reminded him. "I admit there might be a little shortage for those used to opulence, but such a sacrifice is necessary for the good of Camelot."

"Perhaps the Queen's tender years do not allow for the practical necessi-" began Lord Gwyron.

"The Queen is sitting right beside you," Gwen interrupted. "I would like to be addressed as if I were actually a part of this council."

"My apologies, my lady," he said, though he did not look sorry in the slightest. "My point stands, however. I can appreciate your generous heart and certainly your background would lead you to be concerned for the people, but sometimes sacrifices have to be made."

"When the sacrifices are to line the bellies of those who have plenty already, I do not see the point," Gwen said. She put her palms on the table and leaned forward. "My lords, I understand what these people are going through and why they are here. We are their protectors and it is our duty to ensure their survival. Without them Camelot is nothing and you have no furs to grace your ladies and no feasts to slake your hunger. This land is built upon these people and the one thing they ask of us is that we take care of them when there is danger." She slowly rose, keeping her palms on the table. "Danger is at the door and it is something none of you are prepared to face. My husband, the King, is risking his life to save those people. All he has asked of us who remain in the safety of the castle is that we give up a little of our comfort and help his people. Arthur is a strong leader, a compassionate man, and wise beyond the traditions and the prejudices of his time. So do not fall behind. These people are here to stay until Morgana's attack is at an end. I suggest you get used to it."

“Your Highness, I must insist you look at the facts,” said Lord Gwyron. “There has been too much unrest among the people. You don’t have the wherewithal-"

“I beg your pardon, my lord,” Gwen said, interrupting again, “but as someone who was brought up among the people, I think I have exactly the wherewithal. Now, I’ve made my decision on the matter and I’ll thank you to stop questioning my judgment. I do not wish to be overbearing, but please remember that you are my councilors, not my superiors. Is there anything else before I retire for the night?”

Only dirty glances were returned to her and she felt exhausted, like she’d fought a long battle herself, even if only a metaphorical one. It was hard because they did not do this when Arthur was here. They waited until he was gone, like poisonous snakes, bowing with oily obeisance while in public, and tearing her apart in private. Their wives were no better, perhaps worse.

Still, she'd seen fear in some of their faces while she'd made her speech, even some with understanding. She could only hope that she'd made the smallest difference. That was what she was there to do, but it was hard, especially when dealing with such backwards people.

What Gwen really wanted was the company of people she trusted and most of them had left Camelot that morning. So she headed to visit with Gaius or Gwaine, who was still grumbling over not being allowed to go with the rest of the knights because of his injuries.

It had taken Arthur pointedly telling him that it was Gwaine’s own foolishness that had brought it on him to shut him up. He had been left in charge of Camelot’s security while Leon was gone and he’d been preening over it ever since, as if to let them all know he was okay.

Gwaine was with Gaius getting a final check-up when Gwen knocked on the door. 

“Enter,” Gaius called out. “My lady,” he said, bowing.

“None of that,” she said, sitting down. “I could do with being just plain Gwen for awhile.”

“Those nobles thinking they can wear you down again?” Gwaine asked, putting his shirt back on.

“I believe they think I’m easy prey with Arthur gone,” Gwen said, rubbing her temples.

“Do you have a headache, my lady?” Gaius asked.

“A very large one,” she admitted.

“I will get you something for that,” Gaius said, starting to bustle around.

“You’re worth the whole lot of them put together,” Gwaine said, sitting down next to her.

“I appreciate your confidence,” she said, then looked at him thoughtfully. “Gwaine, you knew about Merlin before.”

“I did.”

“And you never said a word, never doubted him for a moment?”

“Never.”

“How could you be so sure?”

“How could I not? I mean, it’s Merlin. He’s just trustworthy, good.”

“But he’s done…well, I do not wish to betray any confidences.”

Gwaine looked at her and leaned back for a minute or two.

“None of us is perfect, princess,” he said, using his old name for her, perhaps to remind her that they were just Gwaine and Gwen at the moment. “I’ve done things in cold blood that I regret. Some very recently.”

“I guess that’s true,” she said. “I know it is, and that’s what I told Merlin myself. I cannot bear to think of my past sometimes, but…he was so secretive.”

“It all comes down to whether or not you believe his reasons were good. Do you know Merlin, who he is, deep inside, secrets or not?”

“I think so,” she said. “I think he always strove to show that to me.”

“Then there’s your answer,” Gwaine said. “No more weeping, Gwen. If I’m not allowed, neither are you. We’ve all spent too much time feeling sorry for ourselves and acting like our lives are still lived under the thumb of a tyrant. Arthur may be a prat sometimes, but he is a far far better man than his father. The good days are about to come as soon as the witch is dead.”

“And do you think Merlin can kill her?”

“If anyone can save us,” Gwaine said, leaning forward, “it’s Merlin.”

Gaius came down from his ladder and handed Gwen a bottle.

“There you are, Gwen, see if that helps.”

“Thank you,” she said, downing the whole bottle. 

It tasted terrible, but that was to be expected.

“If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a castle to run,” Gwaine said, getting lightly to his feet, no longer looking at all injured.

“I do believe that’s my job,” Gwen called after him and he winked before closing the door.

“I couldn’t help overhearing,” Gaius said slowly. “Now, I know it’s none of my business, but I do have the advantage of knowing Merlin’s state of mind when he made some of those decisions.”

“I cannot think about Merlin anymore,” Gwen said, putting her hand over his. “But I appreciate the offer. If I continue to doubt him and pick apart his every motive and reason, I shall lose sense of the entirety of his person. And I do not wish to do that. We shall be fine in time. I just need Arthur back in one piece.”

“I long for that with all my heart, Gwen,” Gaius said, sitting down next to her, “but if neither of them came back, we would still be able to live our lives.”

“Could we?” she asked. “Do you think I could keep doing this with the council? Do you think my having the seal and being Queen would keep them from plotting against me?”

“You would rise to the occasion,” he said firmly.

“Perhaps,” Gwen said, knowing she’d do everything in her power to do so, to protect what Arthur had entrusted to her. “But what about after I am gone? I have no children, Gaius, nothing to continue Arthur’s legacy.”

“Ah, that’s what’s troubling you.”

“Do you think- is there something wrong with me?”

“It takes two to procreate, Gwen,” Gaius said, a slight twinkle in his eye.

“I understand that,” she said, blushing. “But could there be something that’s keeping me from having children?”

“I would be happy to examine you and give you my medical opinion, but remember that even if there is something wrong, it might be Arthur as well.”

“You’re right,” she said. “But suppose there is something wrong? What can be done about it? I was wondering…if Merlin…do you think magic-"

“No!” Gaius said loudly and firmly, startling her.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, staring at him. “Gaius, what did I say?”

Gaius calmed down and smiled.

“I’m sorry, Gwen. Just…do not suppose magic can solve all your problems. It is a mindset that leads to black magic. Those who practiced the Old Religion knew better. Knew that magic has consequences. A life for a life.”

“What does that mean?”

Gaius leaned back and seemed to consider something before speaking again.

“Do you know how Arthur was born?”

She shook her head, confused.

“I know Ygraine had difficulty conceiving and there was some nonsense about Morgause years ago saying it was Uther’s fault, but I don’t know the details.”

Gaius sighed and looked at her carefully.

“I made a promise never to speak of this, but Uther is gone now and my words cannot harm him anymore than he harmed himself by his actions. There was a time when magic was free in Camelot. Uther courted sorcerers like everyone else. Nimueh was in Camelot at the time and Uther and Ygraine begged her to help them to have a child. Nimueh warned them that a life would be taken in exchange for the birth of one. The balance had to be restored, you see. That is how it works. Uther agreed, not caring, wanting the child more than anything. But the life that the magic claimed was one he did not expect.”

“Ygraine,” Gwen breathed. “That’s how she died.”

“Yes, and Uther blamed Nimueh, blamed magic, not even looking to himself for guilt. He tried to kill her, but she vanished, and that began the Great Purge. I really do not know how I survived it, but Uther swore me to secrecy and made me promise to stop practicing sorcery. I have carried that burden all these years. Magic has its price.”

“Does Arthur know this?”

“He knows what Morgause told him, but I still do not know if he knows it was true. Merlin stopped him from killing Uther by convincing Arthur Morgause was lying.”

“Merlin again,” Gwen said. “Always entrapped deep within the lies.”

“Merlin found out himself the hard way about magic’s price,” Gaius cautioned. “Do you remember when Arthur was dying by the Questing Beast? Merlin journeyed to the Isle of the Blessed to save him. But when he met Nimueh there, she told him about the price. He agreed thinking he would pay it himself. His mother came to Camelot, dying, right after that.”

“I remember,” Gwen said, her hand to her face. “Oh, I remember.”

“That was when Merlin realized the truth. He was going to go back to the Isle to force Nimueh to take him instead. I, I decided to go for him since he was needed more than I.”

“Oh, Gaius,” she said, but he shook his head.

“I did my best, but Merlin will never let anyone be as self-sacrificing as him. He followed me, but when he found me gone, he fought with Nimueh and destroyed her, making her life the one needed to restore the balance for Arthur’s.”

“I see,” she said, thinking hard.

“That is why we should not attempt the same for you and Arthur,” Gaius said. “History must not repeat itself if things are to change. We must trust in science in this instance, or perhaps in the destiny the three of you seem to share.”

“Not you too,” Gwen said, laughing slightly, feeling overwhelmed with all this new information.

“I cannot doubt the proof of my own eyes,” Gaius said. “I’ve watched Merlin these last ten years, seen him grow into a young man I’m proud to know. He has come so far, Gwen, surely even you can see that. He has saved this kingdom more times than I can count, and he has done all of that without falling into darkness or despair, without letting himself become like Morgana. His strength is unparalleled, his wisdom beyond that of his nature. And the same goes for you and Arthur, overcoming every obstacle set before you. You both have grown so much; becoming something that makes this old man happy to see.”

She blushed, not knowing what to say to that, but grasping onto his words about Merlin, wanting to remember every word for if she ever doubted again.

“You give me hope, Gaius,” she said. “Thank you for telling me. But I still…I need to know why I haven’t ever been with child.”

“Certainly,” Gaius said. “I should be happy to help all I can. And just because we don’t want to create a child through magic as Arthur was, does not mean that we can’t use magic to help us find out what is happening.”

“Do you think?” Gwen asked, happier now.

“I do. I know the perils of magic, Gwen, but equally do I know the benefits. Magic simply is. The good or evil of it is in the wielder.”

“There is no evil in sorcery, only in the hearts of men,” she whispered, mind going back to just moments after her restoration from Morgana’s hold, words heard through the hazy mist of a newly freed mind. 

“What is that?”

“Something I heard the Dolma say,” she said, still thinking about it. She was surprised when Gaius started laughing heartily. “What is it?”

“Oh, I do wish I could have been there to see that,” Gaius said. “Poor Merlin. The things he had to do.”

And Gaius laughed some more. 

Gwen was confused until she realized what he’d said.

“No!” she said in astonishment. “No, really?”

Gaius nodded, still laughing.

“I’m afraid so. His other cover had been discovered, you see.”

Now that she thought about it…oh, yes, yes, there all the pieces were. Another bit of her history falling into place. How much she really did owe to Merlin. Her love for him suddenly came swimming back into her heart, overpowering her doubts.

“I cannot believe it,” she said, her lips beginning to twitch. “Oh, Gaius, you should have seen him. I don’t remember much of it, but there at the end…it was just the two of them going at it as usual. Oh, why didn’t I see it before!”

The two of them laughed long and Gwen felt better than she had in days. Her faith in Merlin was restored enough that she knew Arthur would be safe. She hoped and prayed he would be. She needed him to keep his promise, just as she would keep hers to have Camelot and herself ready when he got back.

All was not well, but she was determined to be herself, for the future, for the kingdom, for her husband. Gaius had relieved many of her fears by his assurances that there could be an answer to her barrenness. Also, it helped, it vastly helped, to hear the man’s perspective on Merlin, on magic, on the years they’d known each other. Gaius knew Merlin better than anyone and if he could be so all right with all Merlin had done, well, Gwen didn’t think there was a higher voucher. She could not focus on the Merlin who had protected them all despite the cost without thinking of the broken man she’d held in her arms only a few days past, exhausted with secrets and responsibility, bereft of those he loved because of a path he had never chosen for himself.

Besides, Gwen couldn’t keep her head in the past and on past misdeeds, or she’d fall into the same trap Uther did. Sometimes she shuddered to think of the man and the things he’d done. She tried not to think harshly of him for Arthur’s sake, but sometimes all she could see was the man who’d killed her father. Somehow, knowing all Uther had done had brought her Arthur, did not make it right, but released an old anger inside her. And she was determined to be the best Queen she could be, to rule, even if Arthur never came back, the way she had wanted to be ruled and never had been.

It was a weight of acceptance and she held it freely.


	11. You've Got That Young Blood, Set it Free

Merlin’s skin crawled with unused magic and he found himself longing to make smoke figures or fireballs or anything to use some of it up. He was still getting used to himself in so many ways now. Now that he was Emrys fully. Everything had been so mixed up for so long, but now that he had clarity about himself, he had never been more confused. Just like his destiny, he thought grimly, to be so backwards.

Still, at least now he was doing something. He was riding, going out to face the enemy, not spending his time trying to justify himself, not only in his own mind, but to everyone he loved. Merlin bounced along on his horse, just behind Arthur, mind free to contemplate and plan.

He’d spent a good deal of the last few days honing on his magic, trying to understand it, to find the changes that had been made to him in the Cave and at Avalon. Gaius had woken several mornings to sounds of an explosion in Merlin’s room as he fought to contain all of his power. Merlin didn’t know whether it was his nerves or the final battle looming, but he kept losing control, especially after particularly stressful planning sessions. He hadn’t lost control in front of anyone but Gaius, but it had forced him to keep an extremely close watch on himself, to be more disciplined and secretive with his magic just when the secret of his having it was out. He still didn’t know exactly how much power he had, but now he did know how to keep it to himself unless needed. He’d made, well, he’d made mental shields around it, that was the only way he could find to describe it. He was rather proud of them actually.

But it wasn’t just his magic that made him feel stressed. Everything was different now. Merlin had been fully exposed to all of Camelot’s knights, branded a friend, and identified as someone to be trusted. But being told that didn’t make it so in people’s minds. The people he knew best, the ones who didn’t know the things he’d done, didn’t look at him differently. Leon had probably had the hardest time with it, but Percival seemed to have taken everything in stride just fine. Merlin supposed it was because Percival didn’t come from Camelot and had only been exposed to the horrors of magic through Morgana.

It was reassuring in a way to know that those he counted closest to him were willing to see past the lies, but not everyone had.

Arthur was trying his best, but Merlin could tell how disturbed he was by Merlin’s confession days before. And Merlin couldn’t blame him for that. Still, though Arthur insulted him and fought with him and actually kept publically affirming him, everything he spoke rang hollow with Merlin, because he knew it was all an act. Something to keep Arthur’s façade of being in control in place until this was over and he could privately take Merlin’s head off. Probably only figuratively.

Of course the worst thing was Gwen. She’d been his biggest advocate since he’d come home to Camelot and then…then her face as he’d told her the truth. It had been hard enough telling Arthur, but then he’d told Arthur more details because it had just been too much to go into everything so thoroughly a second time. And Arthur perhaps understood making those kinds of life and death decisions better than Gwen did. Not that she hadn’t had to make hard choices, to do things no one should ever have to do, including killing, but it wasn’t as natural a part of her life as it was Arthur’s.

And Merlin had hurt her, hurt her with the knowledge that he was capable of such things. Most people would never think it of him, he didn’t let them, putting on the charade that made him seem completely disarming to them. He appeared as a foolish manservant, sickly good and weak, loyal to a fault, and unable to think of wicked things. And, of course, Gwen had never been so taken in by his act as most others had, but he’d taken great care to hide the darker parts of himself from her. He was paying for it now because she’d barely been able to look at him since he’d told her. It made his heart hurt to think of it.

Though there was hope because these past few days she had always agreed with him in the council over Arthur when Arthur wouldn’t see reason, which was pretty much all the time, in Merlin’s opinion. And when she’d said goodbye, she hadn’t just asked for Arthur’s protection, but for Merlin’s. That was the greatest gift he could have asked for under the circumstances and he strove to keep thinking of that, to let her memory of him be that, and his memory of her be one of forgiveness.

Because Merlin didn’t know what lay ahead of him. His destiny had slowly wound for years, ever twisting around dark corners until he’d wanted to scream with frustration. But now there was light ahead, a straight path, leading straight to Morgana, and while he was so very powerful, so very full of magic, he did not know the future. He had had no vision to help him, no advice from Kilgharrah, no message from the Druids.

He was on his own and, while he knew he could fight, knew he could unleash power; he was also bound by restraints that Morgana was not. He would not kill unless it was absolutely necessary and he was fearful for the lives of those around him. She would also have Aithusa on her side and he was not sure how well he could do against both of them. Hopefully Arthur and his knights could hold off one of them long enough for him to dispatch the other and that would allow him time for a fair fight with the remaining foe.

Aithusa was the other variable in this equation that he did not quite know how to deal with, a mystery he still did not understand. What the dragon had been through and how Morgana had become so important to Aithusa, Merlin didn’t know. It had horrified Merlin to discover the misshapen form of Aithusa under Ismere and then to realize that it was Morgana who had saved the dragon and bonded with Aithusa and taught so much evil to… it was unthinkable, especially for a Dragonlord. Merlin felt his responsibility as such keenly and he knew he’d failed Aithusa mightily somehow, though he didn’t know how he could have done differently. Both he and Kilgharrah had mourned the day when Aithusa had disappeared from the elder dragon’s care and had not been seen since. Merlin had tried calling for the white dragon to no avail. 

So now Merlin would face two old friends and have to possibly destroy them. Merlin felt physically sick at the idea of killing a dragon. He had been too busy at Camlann to pay much attention to Aithusa, intent on finding Arthur and Mordred, but that didn’t mean it hadn’t pained Merlin to command Aithusa the way that he had. Now who knew what the dragon thought and felt about the way Merlin had acted or what Morgana would ask? Three times now he’d had to order Aithusa to not use dragon powers for ill; he didn’t know what the outcome of the fourth would be. 

The scouts had placed Morgana in the Forest of Essetir, or just outside it. It made terrible sense to Merlin, after all, she’d once found a home within its shelter, only to have it torn from her.

So he'd gone out to make sure she was there, taking Arthur with him on Arthur's insistence. That had been one very tense ride. It had ended with Morgana confronting them.

It had not been a good conversation. She had been cold, unyielding and Merlin had simply felt guilt, so much guilt that he'd barely taken part in the conversation. Arthur had borne the brunt of it, but in the end Merlin had foolishly reached out to Morgana again and something had been set off in her. Her tenuous hold on reality had slipped, he could see practically see it. Gone was the compassionate and articulate woman who had so often stood up for the downtrodden. She was consumed by her own injustice, her own past, her own perceived ideas about the world and their future. It was the most tragic thing he'd ever seen.

In the end he'd had to transport him and Arthur back to Camelot by magic. He'd never attempted it before but he'd known they could not face Morgana at that time. It might have ended the way he'd wanted it to, but he'd still been struggling with keeping his magic in check. The teleport had been a huge drain on his power, but actually freeing. It had given him the time he'd needed to contain the rest, the breathing space to understand himself more.

It had obviously bothered Arthur and their confrontation with Morgana had clearly made Arthur nervous again. He'd been even more on edge since then and Merlin hadn't thought that had been possible.

Now they were riding to find her once again and he’d been reaching out with his senses the whole way, trying to find her, but she was either purposefully shielding herself or they were going in the wrong direction. He thought it was the former, because regardless of the condition of her mind, she obviously wanted his and Arthur’s heads and she wouldn’t let them go the wrong way for long.

Though, that was debatable given the havoc she’d wreaked among several villages, the inane babbling they’d reported issuing from her mouth. Merlin did not want to face a Morgana gone mad, she was dangerous enough when she was fully in control of her faculties, and he didn’t want to see anything that might make him hesitate to strike a fatal blow. Because it had to end. It had to end this way.

Perhaps with his death; if that’s what he was given all this extra magic for, then so be it. Merlin would gladly give his life for Camelot, for Arthur, for the freedom it would bring if Merlin took her down with him. He longed for peace. He’d seen too much of death and misery and decay and pain. So much blood and twisting of human nature. It made him sick because that was not what life was for. He knew that with the very fiber of his being, so, yes, an ultimate sacrifice denied to him for so long, would not be out of the question.

Merlin did not like to think of his own death though. He’d long ago accepted it as a possibility, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. There were times when it seemed the better option, a measure of peace in the midst of his frantic life, but those thoughts never clung to him for long, only in his blackest moments. Merlin was someone who loved life, who loved the vitality of it. He’d lost too many of those he’d loved, sent too many to their long rest, to not understand how precious was each moment of life. So he would fight.

Arthur held up his hand, slowing to a halt, and Merlin realized they were near their location.

“Everyone be on high alert,” Arthur's clear voice echoed back down the ranks.

Merlin closed his eyes and let his magic flow from him, invisible, on the wind, looking for traces of Morgana. He ignored everything around him, including Arthur as he asked inane questions. The smell of brimstone came to Merlin and he instantly straightened up.

“The dragon is here,” he said. “Morgana cannot be far away.”

“And you know you can control the dragon?” Arthur asked even though they’d gone over it a hundred times back at Camelot.

“Aithusa obeyed me at Camlann,” Merlin reminded Arthur patiently.

“I know,” Arthur said curtly.

Leon rode up, glancing uneasily at Merlin before speaking.

“Our scouts show a bonfire in the field before the forest. I think she is waiting for us, Sire.”

Arthur nodded.

“Then we will not disappoint her. Have everyone be on their guard, she is not to be trifled with and there is the dragon to contend with. Do you see any men?”

“A few guards, no more. The Saxons were too largely dispersed after the battle.”

“Then let us use our numbers to our advantage. Are you ready, Merlin?” Arthur asked.

Merlin smiled.

“I think I’d like to go cower behind a table or something actually, Sire.”

“Tough, your cowering days are behind you,” Arthur said, a hint of his old arrogance in his voice. “Now do as your King commands.”

“Whatever you wish, King Dollophead,” Merlin muttered under his breath.

Arthur glared at him with the exact right amount of ire and Merlin felt suddenly happy.

Arthur wheeled his horse away and Leon made to follow him, but then turned back to Merlin, who waited, worried about what Leon would say.

"I-I've seen terrible things happen with magic," Leon said. "I'm supposed to hate it." Merlin simply nodded and kept waiting. "But you- well, I can give you the benefit of the doubt. I hope this battle will prove you right."

"You and me both," said Merlin, smiling wanly. "I appreciate that. We shall see."

Leon nodded and then turned his horse to follow Arthur.

They approached the field and a great wall of flame rose to meet them. The horses all reared and bolted; a few knights, including Arthur, kept theirs through sheer horsemanship and trust, and Merlin through magic, but most of the knights were on the ground.

Merlin hadn’t sensed anything before the attack and he wondered what new magic Morgana had acquired that masked her intent so well.

Then the low flying figure of Aithusa could be seen wheeling toward them from the southeast. More fire rose behind them, ringing them in entirely. There would be no fleeing, it was win or die.

A small black figure stood in front of the flames.

“Emrys!” called Morgana, her voice high pitched to such intensity it hurt Merlin’s ears. “Emrys, show yourself!”

Merlin rode forward, Arthur beside him.

“Morgana,” Merlin said.

“Why do you hide behind Merlin?” she asked, circling to and fro, restless. “You are no little servant, leeching power from behind the throne. You are Emrys! Emrys! Emrys!”

Arthur stared at her in fear as her screams continued to fill the air.

“Why do you fear me so, Morgana?” Merlin asked quietly, gathering his power.

“I do not fear you, I loathe you,” she screamed out and fire started to crackle around her. “You are the bane of my existence. If it weren’t for you none of this would have happened.”

“You had your part to play, Morgana, and you played it with relish,” Merlin said gently.

“Is that what you tell yourself to help you sleep at night, little Merlin?” she said, a twisting smile curving on her face. “Well, no longer, for tonight will see the end. I will be your doom and not the other way around, no matter how many old crones tell me different! I will bleed my dear brother dry and make you watch your own failure before I finally tear your heart out.”

Arthur swallowed hard from beside Merlin and pulled out his sword.

“Not tonight, Morgana,” he said firmly. “No more war between us, no more hatred.”

“And you,” Morgana said, sending a fireball heading straight for Arthur. His horse did dump Arthur at that before Merlin could do anything, possibly saving Arthur's life. Arthur scrambled to his feet as Morgana continued her rant. “You, how dare you come before me! And with him. You hunted me, you despised me, you betrayed me, but Merlin reveals himself and you practically make him next in line for the throne!”

“It’s not so,” Arthur said. “You never bothered to come to me, Morgana. I would have helped you. But you betrayed me, tried to kill the woman I love, tried to take my kingdom. Merlin may have lied, but he never did that.”

“I guess he always did come first,” Morgana said, “or it would never have mattered. And it matters not now. You killed Mordred! You may not die at his hand as was destined to be because of Emrys. The two of you are not worthy to walk upon this earth. Aithusa!” she said, throwing back her head.

The knights had remained behind them, gathering the horses they could, watching the forest beyond the flames, but now they ducked as the white dragon flew overhead, belching out more flame, scattering them again.

Merlin didn’t have time to think, knowing he couldn’t fight both of them at the same time. So he roared out with his dragon’s voice, calling for Aithusa to stop the bloodshed, to not kill, jumped off his horse, and then ran straight for Morgana.

Arthur ran with him.

“You should protect your men,” Merlin said.

“Who’s going to protect you?” Arthur asked.

“That’s my job,” Merlin said. “Now go save your men.”

Arthur glanced behind them and whatever he saw made his eyes widen because he slowed, as if unsure.

“Call if you need me,” he yelled and then ran back in the other direction.

“Just us, Emrys,” Morgana called, her voice a purring, grating sound. “Why do you hide so, show us yourself, show us Emrys.”

Merlin straightened up and obliged her, he became Emrys, his youth falling away, yet the vitality of his magic became stronger as he shed the shields he’d built around himself to keep his magic from exploding into full force.

It was time to stop running and fully embrace his destiny.

Her eyes widened and she took a step back before she glowered and started hurling fire at him.

He blocked each blow easily, reaching inside himself, not bothering to incant spells, simply using the innate magic that was a part of who he was.

She blocked his blows almost as easily as he did hers, but then she flew backwards, bouncing off the wall of fire behind her as if it was solid. The flames flickered on her black dress, not seeming to hurt her.

He was impressed in spite of himself, she’d clearly been practicing.

“High Priestess indeed,” he said. “Oh, what good you could have done if only you’d bothered to try.”

“Don’t patronize me,” she hissed, and a black bolt of power came hurtling at him, knocking him to his knees.

He groaned with the effort of standing. He’d more access to his magic this way, but his bones were more brittle. He forged a staff in his hand to help him better focus the magic and send lightening toward her.

She spun through the air, landing flat on her back, then was back up and throwing more magic at him.

It seemed to last forever, the volley of power between them, the ground was rent and tattered with their war, the flames raging higher and higher as if urged on by their battle.

Sometime in the midst of it all, the fire and the disorientation and the focus, Merlin realized there were screams echoing around him. He chanced a glance behind him and saw that his hold over Aithusa was weak at best. The dragon was still fighting, still keeping the knights from going anywhere. If ever Aithusa did manage to break away from Merlin’s command the knights would instantly be killed as easily as insects under a boot. Merlin whirled to help them, to call to Aithusa again, when a sudden blast from Morgana dropped him to his knees and he was lost to the explosion and heat of defending himself from harm. 

His best option was to finish her quickly. Merlin hadn’t exactly been playing with her, but he hadn’t been just holding his own either. He was better than her, that had always been true, but he’d never felt the need to put her in her place before. He’d always been hidden, held back by his secret, but no more. He let the magic flow through himself with alacrity and skill, no longer denying himself, no longer denying what he’d become.

He felt taller, like the earth and sky and sea themselves were at his command, and he rose hills before him to protect him and drew forth rain from the heavens to quench the flames and sent wind to distract and light to illuminate and fire to kill. For this was the end, the end of Morgana and all the horror she’d unleashed upon the world. The end of the travesty that was her life. She faltered beneath his onslaught, his true power, and she was lost from his sight under the mantle of his magic. He could feel compassion in himself as he flew into the air itself and landed in front of her broken body.

“Is this really what you wanted, Morgana? Is this the end you desired?” he asked, preparing for the final blow.

She glared up at him with such hatred, such madness in her eyes, that he could only feel pity.

“I am what I am because of you,” she hissed out. “Perhaps your magic is greater, but I shall take what you love. I shall make you fail.”

His look of pity turned to alarm as she glanced behind him and whispered words he understood with cold clarity.

Her power flew past him to where Arthur was standing, watching, sword upraised. The King of Camelot fell with a cry and Merlin cried out.

He called for Arthur’s sword instinctively and it flew into his hands like it belonged there, perhaps it did, and he brought it down upon Morgana, clutching her to him as he had once before, cradling her as she fell to the ground.

“The time for all this bloodshed is over. I blame myself for what you've become. But this has to end."

"I am a High Priestess," she said, gasping, "no mortal blade can kill me."

"This is no mortal blade," he said. "Like yours, it was forged on a dragon's breath. Goodbye, Morgana."

Her eyes glazed over and then her life faded from her and a great evil was purged from the world and she finally looked peaceful and while Merlin felt the importance of that, his only concern was Arthur.

There was a sense of another presence around him, the scream of a dragon and the roar of flames, the yelling of men in fear, but Merlin ignored that, running for where Arthur had fallen.


	12. You Can Reclaim Your Crown

When Arthur had left Merlin and Guinevere after hearing all of Merlin’s secrets, he’d been sick to his stomach. He’d barely made it back to his room before dry heaving into the chamber pot and wondering just exactly how he’d made it through that conversation without either trying to kill Merlin or breaking down entirely.

So many secrets, so much happening right under his nose, so many things Merlin had been forced to do for Arthur. Arthur didn’t want the weight of that responsibility, to know that those things had happened in his name, for his kingdom, under his friendship. It was too much to bear after everything else. Arthur spent a few moments shaking uncontrollably and trying to get command of himself.

It was true, what he’d told Merlin, Arthur understood why, he also knew how much good Merlin had done, Arthur knew that his decision to forgive Merlin still stood, that eventually they’d be okay. But that day was not today and today was the day where Arthur wanted to rip back the past and change it if he only could, to somehow use hindsight to change people’s decisions and get back the people he loved.

He mourned for Morgana now more than when he’d first found out her betrayal. He could only imagine the pain and loneliness and uncertainty of waking up to a world where you had magic when it was condemned, to not know if you were good or evil, to feel like you couldn’t talk to anyone about it, to fear for your life. But he just…he couldn’t do anything about it. He couldn’t change it. Yet, he would have helped her, if she’d come to him. He would have.

But she had not. Which was the difference between her and Merlin, he gathered. Merlin may have lied to him, but he never abandoned him, never ceased to fight for the same things Arthur himself did, whether he used the same methods or not. Merlin had done terrible things but only when provoked, when forced to it, when faced with a worse consequence. The same could not be said for Morgana and it tore Arthur apart inside. His sister, his beautiful, mischievous, compassionate, strong sister.

His no more.

Slowly he come back to himself from his miserable thoughts and realized he couldn’t cower there any longer. He had to face the facts, face the battle, and be a King. Sometimes he thought of those long ago, far off musings of once becoming a farmer and they made him smile, but they were not to be. Arthur could not deny his birthright anymore than Merlin could. So there was that.

He’d only just gotten himself under control when a knock came to the door. Leon came in with the latest reports and Arthur thanked him before dismissing him to go over everything. The scouts were not back yet, but should be by the evening. They would start making plans at once.

Arthur set them aside and spotted the remains of Guinevere’s breakfast, not yet cleared away. He realized he was hungry, incredibly hungry, and started to eat.

Guinevere came in and he started to tell her of all that happened when his brain caught the look on her face and her body language.

“What’s wrong?”

“Merlin told me.”

He gathered her in his arms immediately, shushing her protests.

“I’m sorry, Guinevere.”

“It is not me he’s hurt,” Guinevere said half-heartedly.

“He has hurt everyone who put their trust in him,” Arthur said firmly. He pulled back to look in her face. “I can understand your feelings. Of course I can. Who else better? But…I can’t live like that. You taught me that just last night. I have to make decisions based on what I feel is right and I know Merlin means well.”

“As do I,” Guinevere said, “but that does not wipe out the past.”

Arthur found it incredibly ironic to be the one who was fighting _for_ forgiving Merlin. It wasn’t fair, but then life hadn’t exactly been fair as of late.

“Why do we keep switching positions like this?” he asked. “I find it absolutely intolerable that I’m forced to be the one defending Merlin, just so you know.”

“I am as surprised as you,” she said. “I guess it just took longer to catch up to me.”

“And it will pass, I think,” Arthur said. If anyone was able to forgive, it was his Guinevere. “But I can easily reassign him if he will make you feel uncomfortable.”

“I think Merlin would actually fit in better elsewhere,” she said. “Hasn’t he proved he is more than your servant? That the job was only a convenience to keep him close to you?”

Which made Arthur think. That was true, very true. He didn’t think they could ever be just master and servant again, too much had happened. Arthur had to keep shifting his opinion of Merlin and he’d probably have to do so again, but he couldn’t worry about Merlin's job title at the moment.

“You may have a point,” he said. “But until then, I need him to help me take down Morgana. Will you be all right?”

“Will you?”

He smiled down at her.

“With you by my side, I can do anything. I haven’t forgiven him yet either, you know, I am still processing through his secrets. But I made the choice to trust him anyway. It will happen for you when you need it to.”

“The King is so wise,” Guinevere said, dropping a slight curtsey.

While he thought she was avoiding her hurt now, he let her, he hadn’t exactly been honest about the incredible pain still flooding through him, and, anyway, he liked her playful side.

“None of that,” he said, grabbing for her, but she ducked away.

“Yes, Sire,” she said, grinning, and he lunged at her, laughing.

“Your hand,” she said, grabbing it. “You’re going to get blood everywhere. Sit down and let me mend it for you. Or go to Gaius.”

“It’s nothing,” Arthur said. “I’ve had worse.”

“What did you do?” she asked quietly, winding a bandage around his hand.

“I punched the table when he told me about Morgana,” he said tightly.

“D-do you think that’s why she turned?” Guinevere asked hesitantly.

“I’m sure that was a big part of why she decided she could no longer trust those she had called her friends. But I do believe Merlin when he says she had made her choice before that. And that…my father was the one who drove her away, without even realizing it.”

“Poor Morgana.”

“She has no more of my pity after what she did to you,” Arthur said, flexing his hand, feeling sad that his Queen was so good at this.

He could not forgive such an act, not to Guinevere. Still… 

“That is not true and you know it,” Guinevere said, wrapping her arms around him.

“I guess not,” Arthur said wearily, but that did not change anything and both of them knew it.

***

Arthur spent a great deal of time the next few days going over their battle strategy and fighting with Merlin.

The scouts came back and pinpointed Morgana’s location to the Forest of Essetir. It was not far, which was both good and bad. Merlin had asked for permission to prove the scouts' diagnosis and Arthur had granted it, but when Merlin told him it meant he would leave Camelot, Arthur nearly blew up at him.

"Don't you think you should stay here?" he asked tightly, mindful that Guinevere, Gaius, and Leon were listening.

"It's the only way for me to be sure," said Merlin. "Don't you trust me?"

"That is a separate subject," said Arthur. "Well, fine, if you're going, so am I. Just like old times."

"Perfect," said Merlin in that tight voice that meant he thought it was anything but perfect.

Guinevere's face fell and Arthur turned to her.

"I promise, we'll be back soon. We're not looking for trouble, right, Merlin?"

"Right," said Merlin, smiling genuinely at Guinevere.

Arthur knew things were still very tense between the two of them and so he'd tried to put as much of his own anger and fear of Merlin aside for her. But it hadn't been easy. Still, a world where Guinevere and Merlin were at odds was an odd one.

Arthur and Merlin left at daybreak and it was so familiar it made Arthur's heart hurt. But he clenched his jaw and rode on without speaking.

It was the quietest Merlin had ever been, that was for certain.

"So," Arthur finally said, when they'd been riding for hours, "what are we looking for?"

"Morgana's magic," said Merlin. "She's subtle, but it seems like she's losing control of her ability to hide. I think she's- well, from what the people have been saying, she's not as well as she used to be."

"Tell me," Arthur said quietly, not able to stop himself from asking, even if he already knew the answer, "did magic do this to her? Is she so corrupted because of it? Or did you do this to her?"

Merlin was quiet for awhile and then he finally looked at Arthur and the pain on his face was very real.

"I don't know. I don't know if it was Uther or me or just her destiny. But it was not magic. Arthur, magic is only a tool."

"That's what I'm trying to accept," said Arthur. "Yet, you say you were born with it."

"I'm a bit of a special case," Merlin said somewhat bitterly. "But as you know I've made very poor choices on occasion. And brilliant ones on others."

Arthur nodded and didn't say anything. They were very close to their destination.

"I expected to see you, Emrys," said a voice from behind them. Merlin didn't jump like Arthur did. He must have known she was there. "I didn't expect to see you two together. Or to have you gossip about me."

Arthur turned and saw Morgana, her face ashen and pale, still wearing that black dress that made her look so much older than he remembered.

"Morgana, can't we talk?" he asked, keeping his voice even.

Morgana moved forward and smiled.

"I would have loved to talk, brother, but I fear it would have gotten me killed. Still, I would like to know one thing…why isn't Merlin's head decorating Camelot's walls?"

"I don't kill my friends without reason," said Arthur. "Let my treatment of him be proof to you that you can trust me."

Her eyebrows rose.

"Really? So, you're an embracer of magic now? You want to make a united land full of magic and sorcery?"

"I did not say that," said Arthur. "I do not know my own views. But I do know I need to think and reevaluate."

"This world can change, Morgana," said Merlin softly. "I believe that our destinies can change."

Her mouth twisted and she seemed to struggle with her words. It was a curious sight. To Arthur it was like watching her change into a different person. At first she had seemed like the Morgana of his childhood, his friend and sister, but whenever she looked at Merlin her body language changed and her face became wild.

"I would not breathe the same air as you," she finally spat out. Her voice, her words, everything about her now seemed utterly changed. She was not the same person Arthur had seen only a moment before. "You who have usurped my land, my people, my family, my destiny. You should have been crow's meat, but instead you are as you ever were."

"Morgana," Arthur said placatingly, riding forward. He hardly knew what he was doing. He'd felt such anger toward her and he knew he could never be with her as he once was, but Merlin's stories had kindled compassion in him toward her and regardless of what she had done to Gwen, Morgana was his sister. "Please."

"Stay back," she hissed and raised a hand against him. "You are no blood to me, what we were is lost. There is no reclaiming it. Not while you waste your time as King licking the boots of Emrys and flaunting your hypocrisy for the entire world to see. Camelot is mine and I will claim it."

Flames began to rise from her hand and Arthur felt fear, but Merlin raised his hand, whispering words Arthur couldn't understand, and suddenly there was a loud bang and Arthur's head hurt, a tightness closing in on him. He closed his eyes and when he opened them again, they were in the fields outside of the Lower Town.

"What?" he gasped, looking around, feeling fear again as he looked at Merlin. "What did you do?"

"Teleportation spell," said Merlin, looking a little drained. "Never tried it like that before."

"A little warning might be nice," said Arthur, getting down from his horse and putting his head between his legs.

"She was going to attack us," said Merlin, swinging down as well.

"I know," said Arthur. "She-she just changed."

"I think seeing us together triggered something in her," said Merlin sadly. "She's no longer Morgana."

"Congratulations," said Arthur tightly and didn't explain his remark before getting on his horse and riding back to Camelot.

After that, Arthur didn't mention their outing, not even to Guinevere. Seeing Morgana like that had reawakened all his fears about magic but he knew he didn't have the luxury or the time to have a breakdown about it. He was the King and his people were counting on him. He would deal with it later. In the meantime, he carried on, treating Merlin as he ever had outwardly.

It was amazing how easy it was to fight with Merlin, always had been. But there was a layer of unease to it now. It felt comfortable and right and Arthur actually thought it might be making Merlin feel better, but it didn’t feel the same to Arthur, it was like a false layer coating over their real relationship, all the problems and mistrust. But Arthur didn’t know what else to do. His friendship with his manservant was hardly more important than the safety of his kingdom, even when said safety appeared to rest on the capabilities of said manservant.

So Arthur kept on, planning, fighting, scheming, telling Gwaine he couldn’t come, and wishing he had more time alone with Guinevere as Arthur got the feeling there was something she wasn’t telling him. It was with a nervous feeling that Arthur gathered all the knights who would be going on the mission, plus Gwaine, Gaius, and Guinevere and formally introduced Merlin’s secret to them.

The mood in the room cooled considerably as all the knights, except Percival, looked taken aback. Arthur had to put it to the man, nothing seemed to shake him, and Arthur very much appreciated his discretion over the past few days. It made him feel that much more secure in the men he trusted.

“Sire, always?” Leon asked, looking utterly shaken. 

Arthur supposed for a man used to serving under Uther this would be like proclaiming Merlin was a murdering rapist, but it was not so. Merlin was Leon’s friend and had been for years. 

“Merlin could not tell his secret safely while the kingdom was ruled by my father and while magic is still technically banned in Camelot, I am allowing it in Merlin’s case as we need his magic to defeat Morgana.”

Arthur slid right by the years where Uther hadn’t been ruling in Camelot, he knew, but those reasons were between Arthur and Merlin.

Leon swallowed and looked at his fellow knights, perhaps feeling reassurance in the easy stances of Gwaine and Percival, and nodded.

“As you wish, Sire.”

Arthur noted that Gwaine took his hand off his sword pommel, also, that all the rest of the knights looked sure now that Leon had proclaimed it so. A testament to how well Leon was trusted by the knights under his command. Arthur felt reassured as to his choice of commander.

It was not as simple and smooth as Arthur hoped it would be, but a plan using Merlin’s magic gradually developed and soon they were ready to march out. Arthur took his leave of Guinevere, trying to give her his reassurance as well as taking hers, but it was hard, harder than leaving her to the healing tent last time, because he knew so much more about what he was facing and she would not be close by.

He’d almost died the last time he said goodbye to her, would he actually die this time? They had barely had any time together, barely been able to soothe the wounds of their last parting. It was bitterly unfair, but Arthur could not shake his duty and knew she would not wish him to. So he kissed her goodbye and rode off to the front of the column, holding the image of her smile in his mind, longing to see her again already.

It was not that long of a ride but Arthur spent it searching his heart and mind for answers that they didn’t have. All he could do was reflect on Merlin’s confessions over and over again, recalling the last ten years of his life, wondering exactly what had happened. What he kept coming back to was how many times Merlin had saved his life and had gone into battle with him.

Yes, Merlin had betrayed him by his lies as had Morgana, as had Agravaine, but those lies had had incredibly different consequences. Merlin’s lies had saved a kingdom and lives, whereas the other lies had only been meant to destroy. Could such deception ever truly be good? Arthur didn’t think so. He did not believe in lies, he believed in being upright and damning the consequences, but that was partly because he had to lead the way, had to be the example as prince and now King. Merlin did not have those constraints.

But was he just making excuses because he wanted Merlin to be okay, to be his friend, to not have to lose anyone else? Arthur needed to be sure, needed to have no more doubts. Both Merlin’s assurance of their destiny and Guinevere’s belief in Arthur's right to rule had helped him feel better about who he was, but he needed to make that decision within himself now that he knew all the facts. But as they rode closer he also knew he had to put that aside for now, had to take care of Morgana and make his kingdom secure before he could do any of that.

“Everyone be on high alert,” he said as they reached their location, making sure his voice carried. Arthur turned to Merlin to see what the other man thought only to find his eyes closed and Arthur being ignored. “Merlin, you may have some sort of inner connection to know what the hell’s going on, but the rest of us don’t. What’s happening?”

Merlin finally opened his eyes.

“The dragon is here,” he said. “Morgana cannot be far away.”

“And you know you can control the dragon?” Arthur asked, still worried despite Merlin’s assurances back at Camelot.

“Aithusa obeyed me at Camlann,” Merlin reminded him.

“I know,” Arthur said curtly.

Leon rode up, glancing uneasily at Merlin before speaking.

“Our scouts show a bonfire in the field before the forest. I think she is waiting for us, Sire.”

Arthur nodded.

“Then we will not disappoint her. Have everyone be on their guard, she is not to be trifled with and there is the dragon to contend with. Do you see any men?”

“A few guards, no more. The Saxons were too largely dispersed after the battle.”

“Then let us use our numbers to our advantage. Are you ready, Merlin?” Arthur asked.

Merlin smiled.

“I think I’d like to go cower behind a table or something actually, Sire.”

“Tough, your cowering days are behind you,” Arthur said, feeling more natural with Merlin than he had in days. “Now do as your King commands.”

“Whatever you wish, King Dollophead,” Merlin muttered under his breath.

Arthur glared at him and couldn’t understand why Merlin suddenly grinned. Idiot.

Arthur wheeled his horse away and didn't pay attention to the exchange of words between Leon and Merlin.

They approached the field and a great wall of flame rose to meet them. The horses all reared and bolted, a few knights, including Arthur, kept theirs through sheer horsemanship and trust, though Arthur didn’t know why Merlin had kept his seat, but most of the knights were on the ground.

The dragon could be seen coming in from the southeast and now there was fire at their backs, ringing them in and keeping them from escape. The only way out was through battle.

A small black figure stood in front of the flames.

“Emrys!” called Morgana. “Emry, Emrys, show yourself!”

Merlin rode forward, Arthur followed beside him.

“Morgana,” Merlin acknowledged.

“Why do you hide behind Merlin?” she asked, circling to and fro, obviously restless. “You are no little servant, leeching power from behind the throne. You are Emrys! Emrys! Emrys!”

Arthur stared at her, the beginnings of fear blossoming through him. She was even worse than their encounter days earlier. This was not his sister. This was not even the sorceress he’d come to hate. This was a woman gone utterly mad.

“Why do you fear me so, Morgana?” Merlin asked quietly, sounding way more serious than Merlin was wont to sound.

Arthur didn’t like it.

“I do not fear you, I loathe you,” she screamed out and fire started to crackle around her. “You are the bane of my existence. If it weren’t for you none of this would have happened.”

“You had your part to play, Morgana, and you played it with relish,” Merlin said gently.

“Is that what you tell yourself to help you sleep at night, little Merlin?” she said, a twisting smile curving on her face. “Well, no longer, for tonight will see the end. I will be your doom and not the other way around, no matter how many old crones tell me different! I will bleed my dear brother dry and make you watch your own failure before I finally tear your heart out.”

Arthur swallowed hard and pulled out his sword. He did not know everything that was happening between them, nor did he want to, but it was obvious that he had a part to play and so he would.

“Not tonight, Morgana,” he said firmly. “No more war between us, no more hatred.”

“And you,” Morgana said, sending a fireball heading straight for Arthur. He tried to duck but there was nothing he could do so he closed his eyes, hoping for a magical save, but it was his horse who dumped him, allowing him to miss the flames. Morgana continued to scream as Arthur got to his feet. “You, how dare you come before me? And with him. You hunted me, you despised me, you betrayed me, but Merlin reveals himself and you practically make him next in line for the throne!”

Arthur shook his head, not able to believe it, not knowing how she could believe it. He guessed she couldn’t read his mind, because she could never know the torment he went through both at her betrayal and at Merlin’s revelations.

“It’s not so,” Arthur said. “You never bothered to come to me, Morgana. I would have helped you. But you betrayed me, tried to kill the woman I love, tried to take my kingdom. Merlin may have lied, but he never did that.”

“I guess he always did come first,” Morgana said, “or it would never have mattered. And it matters not now. You killed Mordred! You may not die at his hand as was destined to be because of Emrys. The two of you are not worthy to walk upon this earth. Aithusa!” she said, throwing back her head.

The dragon sent a swath of flames across the field, scattering Arthur’s knights. Morgana started to laugh in glee, while Merlin threw back his own head and roared in a strange, rough, deep voice that Arthur thought he’d heard somewhere before if only he could remember it.

Then the idiot jumped off his horse and ran straight at Morgana. So naturally Arthur ran with him.

“You should protect your men,” Merlin said.

“Who’s going to protect you?” Arthur asked.

“That’s my job,” Merlin said. “Now go save your men.”

Arthur glanced behind them and his eyes widened at the beginnings of the battle he saw. The dragon wasn’t able to aim directly at his men it seemed but the flames were searing hot and the smoke was blinding. The few Saxons there were appeared desperate to fight; swords rang and clanked against each other in a natural carnage Arthur knew so well yet never became accustomed to. He made a split decision.

“Call if you need me,” he yelled and then ran back to his knights.

He began to call out orders, bringing some semblance of order to the chaos of the battle. He sent those with spears to the dragon, ordering them to make every shot count. A few had bows and he had those aim at the dragon’s eyes.

He gathered his best swordsmen to himself and they faced off against the Saxons, though they were really the least of Arthur’s worries, considering the fire and the beast above their heads.

Arthur found himself back to back with Leon and the other man grinned at him, his normal quiet seemingly somewhat heightened by the bloodlust of war. Arthur grinned back, showing his teeth, for though it made him sick to take a life, fighting was his element. He’d been born and trained and made for these moments, wielding his blade; it was practically melded to his hand and seemed to know his every thought. He made a mental note to ask Merlin exactly what was the importance of this blade because it had always felt as if it were made for Arthur and now Arthur knew how good Merlin was lying.

The Saxons were no match for Arthur’s knights and they were quickly cut down allowing Arthur to focus his attention on the dragon, who was getting more and more dangerous as it appeared the magic keeping it from directly killing them was wearing off. Arthur glanced back to see how Merlin was faring, if he could do anything, but Arthur could barely see the man through the lights and dust of the magical duel that was keeping Merlin busy.

Their fate was their own it would seem and Arthur turned back to his men and then ducked as a huge chunk of rock, loosed by either Merlin or Morgana, thundered to the ground in front of him. He screamed a warning to his men, telling them to watch for the magical fallout.

The dragon flew above them and opened its mouth, flame rushing out, several of Arthur’s men were caught in the path and their mates beside them threw them down, trying to put out the fire. Arthur could barely see as he picked up a fallen spear, the flames were high, but the smoke was thick and it burned into his lungs and he coughed, trying to remain upright to throw, yet low enough to avoid the smoke.

Then there was a higher roar from behind them and Arthur whirled to see a vision out of a nightmare, another dragon, bigger and something Arthur could remember from such a terrible time long ago, swooping down on them. All hope of living through this event fled from Arthur’s heart and he silently prayed for Guinevere to forgive him. But he did not give up; he gathered Leon, Percival, and others to him.

“We will not stop now,” Arthur said as loudly as he could. “We are knights of Camelot and we fight to the end. For the love of Camelot,” he roared, shouting his defiance to the sky and running toward the new threat. 

His men followed him, their cries joining with his and he felt pride and trust in them rise within him, but it was all for naught because the dragon flew over them, opening fire upon the white dragon.

Arthur’s mouth gaped open, not understanding what was happening. Then a dim memory opened in his mind, hadn’t he seen this dragon before? And not just when it attacked Camelot, but only a few days past. And it had a name, Merlin knew it, had befriended it. Kilg…harrah.

“Stand fast,” he yelled, pulling his men back from the dueling dragons.

They were awful to behold, one so much stronger and larger, but not being as aggressive. Flames shot through the night sky making it as bright as day and Arthur couldn’t take his eyes away from the spectacle. The white dragon glimmered in the light, his flame bright and strong, though its flight was not as graceful, something twisted about its body.

Arthur didn’t know what to think but Merlin shot into his mind and he turned back, looking to the other battle.

“I’m going back for Merlin,” he told Leon. “Keep the men together. Don’t break rank; try to put out the fire if possible.”

“Be careful, Sire,” Leon said.

When Arthur turned to go he found Percival running with him and he didn’t try to stop him. He might need backup and he would not deny any man the right to choose his own path if it meant saving a friend.

For Merlin was his best, his dearest friend, and Arthur could no longer deny that, not in the truth of war.

There were hills and valleys in the field where none had been before and it was difficult to see. Arthur rounded the top of one, Percival behind him, and stopped in astonishment. The fight was amazing in its complexity, the lights and very elements of the earth fighting with intensity and it was impossible to see who was fighting with what.

Gradually Arthur came to distinguish the old man version of Merlin, his long hair and beard white, a staff in his hand, though he still had that ridiculous neckerchief around his neck. Arthur’s mouth dropped open; Merlin was shining with power, deep words falling from his mouth, a golden shield all around him, and it seemed like there were mountains, waves, and forest fires at his disposal as he hurled them before him. And then he flew, flew through the air and it stopped, everything stopped.

Morgana was lying on the ground, a huddled black mass, and Arthur would feel sorry for her if he was not too busy being shocked at Merlin. Arthur would also be afraid if there wasn’t a quiet voice inside him insisting that there was nothing to be afraid of. Merlin was just Merlin, for all his power. There was nothing to forgive, nothing to worry about, Merlin was just Merlin.

Arthur pulled his sword, because Merlin being just Merlin meant that he needed Arthur to protect him whether the idiot knew it or not.

But then there was a shot of dark spinning out of the air and knocking him sideways and Arthur felt cold, too cold. Everything swam in the air above him, Percival’s arms somehow catching him, too dark, too cold, too tight. Arthur’s sword spun out of his hand and he lunged, trying to catch it. Everything was wrong and he just wanted it to go back to being right. There had been something he’d needed to say to someone, someone he’d needed to go back to. But it was all just…just-

“Arthur!” Merlin’s voice suddenly yelled in his ear and Arthur jerked upwards, everything swimming into focus. “Arthur, you complete ass, listen to me.”

"Merlin, whatever happens," Arthur said, glad he had a chance to say it.

"Sh, don't talk."

Merlin was holding him, looking like his younger self again. Percival was standing beside them, an anxious expression on his face.

"I'm the King, Merlin; don't tell me what to do."

"I always have, I'm not going to change now," Merlin said, grinning at him.

"I don't want you to change,” Arthur said, the effort tremendous, but Merlin had to know, had to know. “I want you to always…be you. I'm sorry about how I treated you."

"Does that mean you're going to give me a day off?"

"Two," Arthur rasped out.

"That's generous."

"There's something I want to say," Arthur said, struggling to raise his head.

"You're not going to say goodbye," Merlin said. “I’m going to save you.”

"No, no, everything you've done,” Arthur said, still struggling. “I know now. For me, for Camelot, for the kingdom you helped me build."

“Arthur, we don’t have time for this,” Merlin said. “Now shut up and let me heal you.”

Arthur felt quite indignant that here he was trying to have a poignant moment and Merlin wasn’t having it. Just like him, the ungrateful fool. Then there was a warm glowing in Arthur's chest, releasing the cold binds on his heart and Arthur gasped out a breath, suddenly feeling lighter than a man should with armor and chainmail weighing him down.

Merlin’s face appeared above him, dirty and grimy, and Arthur wanted to tell him to go take a bath, but then suddenly he remembered everything again and he blinked, steadying himself.

Percival’s arms were right there, steady as trees, and Arthur caught hold of them.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“Only pretty much a daily occurrence since I met you,” Merlin said.

“Automatic stocks words,” Arthur muttered, shaking his head. “My men,” he said. “The dragon?”

Merlin paled as though he’d forgotten and the idiot probably had.

“Come on,” he said and turned. 

Percival supported Arthur as they ran and Arthur had never been more glad of the knight’s constancy. He had a thought he should probably promote Percival or something but to what Arthur didn’t know.

They reached the top of the last hill between them and the meadow and stopped short at the sight. The fires were still raging but the larger of the dragons was lying on the ground, form too still. The white dragon was wheeling around, mouth open for the incineration of Arthur’s men still grouped on the ground.

Merlin opened his mouth and that strange voice came out again, halting the dragon in its tracks. The dragon appeared to be fighting against the voice and then suddenly bowed its head, flying to the ground and waiting there.

Then Merlin spoke again, this time speaking other words and the fires roared up high and then went out.

“Kilgharrah,” roared Merlin and ran down the slope.

Arthur and Percival followed.


	13. Glass Half Empty, Glass Half Full

Merlin’s heart hammered in his chest as he ran, the exhilaration of his battle still flowing through his veins like the magic that no longer seemed to be a burden or an excess but as natural a part of him as his hair or eye color. But while he was thrilled at having saved Arthur, the sight before him in the valley he’d created was one out of one of his nightmares. Aithusa was about to kill the knights and Merlin spoke to him out of their kindred voice, more stern and commanding than he’d been since the first time that he’d ever used it with Kilgharrah.

Aithusa made loud keening noises and withdrew to the ground, waiting in obeisance and Merlin spared one thought of curiosity and remorse before he put his attention to the flames, speaking to them as an ally and making them recede. 

“Kilgharrah,” he roared, running for his friend.

He fell to his knees beside the great dragon, feeling with his senses, trying to ascertain the damage.

“Young warlock, you’ve done well,” Kilgharrah said, his voice still great despite the obvious pain he was in. 

“What happened?” Merlin asked anxiously. “What can I do?”

Kilgharrah shook his head.

“Every dragon knows when their time has come. This is my time. There is nothing for you to do.”

“But this wasn’t the plan,” Merlin said. “Why are you here?”

“I heard your call,” Kilgharrah said. “I knew Aithusa was here. It was only right that I correct my own mistakes.”

“But you…”

“Oh, Merlin, you do not see because your heart is great, but I have been remiss in my duties and I had a debt to pay.”

“You’ve saved my life countless times,” Merlin said, shaking his head, not understanding. “Any debt you owed me is long gone. If anything I owe one to you.”

“That is not the way between dragons and Dragonlords,” Kilgharrah said, his voice sounding more faint. “Search your soul; you will know it to be true.”

Merlin didn’t want to search his soul, didn’t want to look inside himself. He would only find grief there; grief and pain, and he didn’t want that.

Gradually he became aware of Arthur coming up beside him along with the knights. A hand fell on Merlin’s shoulder as he knelt before the dragon and he’d recognize Arthur anywhere. Merlin looked around and spotted Leon standing there watching.

“What happened?” he asked in a low voice to Leon.

Leon did not seem afraid of him in the slightest now, which Merlin wondered at since he’d shown who he truly was without holding anything back. It would be enough to scare anybody.

“The smaller dragon was going to kill us,” Leon said, “this one saved us. But he seemed…to falter, like an old man at the end of his life.”

Merlin started to whisper words of healing, trying to do something.

“Merlin,” Kilgharrah said, opening his eyes with what looked like great effort. “How many times must I tell you that your magic will not work on me?”

“I will make it work!” Merlin cried desperately. “Don’t leave me.”

“Your powers are more than the earth itself,” Kilgharrah said, “but you are not a god. You have not the power of life and death over magic, which is what I am. You cannot save me, let me go. It has been my privilege to watch you grow into the man you have become.”

“But what will I do without you?” Merlin asked, grasping at anything. “How can I handle Aithusa without you? What about Arthur and our destiny? I would have failed today if not for you.”

Kilgharrah laughed, his laughter less mocking than it sounded.

“I have spoken with Aithusa, you will find him able to hear your heart as I once did. As for today it was you who succeeded. I merely aided. You know it now, Merlin, don’t you? You are magic, all magic, and it cannot be wielded against you. But you are the master, not the magic. I sense your destiny is rounding out. You need not fear for the future.”

“But how can you be sure? Morgana is gone to be sure but she is not the only evil in the world.”

“There comes a time, Merlin, when every child grows up and becomes a parent themselves. This is your time. Do not be afraid, but embrace it.”

Merlin shuddered, swallowing a sob, feeling Arthur’s hand tighten on his shoulder, even if no man or dragon was worth Merlin's tears.

“I will miss you,” he said, daring to move forward and put his hand against the great face.

“I am honored by your grief, young warlock,” Kilgharrah told him, a great sigh of affection leaving him. “I am honored by your clemency of long ago, your wisdom, and your unselfishness. I am honored to have been a help to you. I am honored to have been a part of your story.”

“It’s certainly changed a lot,” Merlin said, trying to smile. “I hated you once.”

“And I was once bound by my bitterness. You saved me, Merlin.”

“And you’ve been saving me ever since.”

There was a shudder running through Kilgharrah’s body and Merlin shook his head, falling into the dragon tongue without realizing it, needing that connection, spilling his fears and worries over the future, over Arthur, yet his love and his gratefulness at the same time.

Kilgharrah opened his eyes one last time and spoke out into the air, his voice louder than before, so all could hear him.

"Though no man can know his destiny, some lives have been foretold. Arthur is not just a King. He is the Once and Future King. Take heart, for when Albion's need is greatest, Arthur will rise again."

“Pardon me?” Arthur said in great astonishment from behind Merlin.

“The story we have been a part of…will live long…in the minds…of men,” Kilgharrah said, his voice dying away.

Merlin felt Kilgharrah’s heart stop and a part of Merlin died, the part he associated so closely with his father and with his magic, and he dropped to the ground, a cry of grief escaping him before he could help it.

“Merlin, Merlin, it’s okay,” Arthur said, beside him now, arms around him. “Merlin, you’re okay. I’m sorry.”

Merlin’s world was white with sadness but he appreciated the effort and he knew it must be costing Arthur an awful lot to act so sentimentally, especially with someone he was angry with.

Gradually Merlin could quiet himself and look to the men standing silent around him. He stood up, Arthur to his side, and was surprised when every man there bowed to him. He thought at first it must be to Arthur, but when he edged away, trying to get out of the way, they followed him, bowing to him. He looked at Arthur, nervous, but the other man was only smiling and shaking his head.

“I’m going to have to get all new knights,” Arthur said. “Obviously the fire’s cooked their brains.” Then he clapped Merlin on the shoulder. “Shall we go home now?”

Merlin shook his head. 

“There’s something I must do first.”

Arthur glanced at the great body beside them.

“Can a dragon be burned? I don’t really think we can bury-"

“I shall do it,” Merlin interrupted gently.

He moved away, calling on the power within himself, raising the dirt and earth and turf and all that had been rent by the battle and destroyed by the fire and placed it gently around the body of his friend. The huge hill towered over them all, green grass clinging to its side and a great tree was mounted on the top.

Arthur blinked several times and then opened his mouth and closed it again.

“That’s incredible,” he finally said.

“That’s me,” Merlin said, trying to sound okay even if he really wasn’t. “Badon Hill.” He wasn’t sure exactly why that was the name he’d chosen, but it felt right. “Now I do have one more duty to perform.”

Arthur glanced behind them to where Aithusa was waiting.

“What shall you do with it?”

“Dragons are creatures but they have intelligence and heart, Arthur,” Merlin said. “I am a Dragonlord, but to do what I have to do- I don’t know how. I watched Aithusa be born, I named-" he broke off, recalling the joy of that moment. “I do not know what Morgana has done.”

“Then ask,” Arthur said. Merlin looked at him in confusion. “Merlin, sometimes you amaze me with your lack of comprehension. I think we’ve all learned to pay better attention to what’s happening to the people around us. Perhaps this dragon was under her spell, or perhaps didn’t know what was going on. Or maybe you can change something in Aithusa as you obviously did in Kilgharrah.”

“Thank you,” Merlin said, smiling genuinely, and walked over to Aithusa, hoping both Arthur and Kilgharrah were right, that Aithusa would listen to him.

They could not speak out loud, but Merlin first spoke in the dragon tongue, words of remonstrance and sorrow and asked the questions he had no answer to. Aithusa wilted under Merlin’s words and then slowly started to open up, the confusion and fear pouring off him in waves.

They spoke mind to mind, Merlin bringing pictures and intentions as explanation, and Aithusa, still so young, so very young, especially for a dragon, asking questions as a child of a five would. It took a long time; Merlin needed to quest into the deepest corners of Aithusa’s mind, seeking the reasons behind his actions, the reason for his connection to Morgana.

Aithusa could not form complete sentences, could not give an explanation, but he could communicate his feelings, his compassion for the dying woman he’d seen before him one day and about the bond grown between them right when a dragon was most impressionable. Merlin vaguely recalled Kilgharrah mentioning that dragons became connected to people or older dragons right at the age Aithusa disappeared. Morgana had suffered much for Aithusa, captured and tortured and unable to use her magic for fear of hurting him. Merlin found himself shedding tears for her and for Aithusa and what they’d been through.

He did his best to explain that while Morgana may have suffered and may have loved Aithusa, her actions were wrong and the things she had had Aithusa do were wrong. Could Aithusa see that?

The dragon became inconsolable, guilt bubbling through his mind, overwhelming Merlin with the intensity of his emotions. Merlin sought to calm and offer absolution for one so young, to offer instruction, to offer companionship. Aithusa was still confused, still angry, still grieving, even as Merlin was, but he thought perhaps they could come together and make it through that process together.

When Merlin finally pulled out of Aithusa’s mind, he found his own body tired and would have fallen if Arthur had not been there to catch him.

“Merlin, you were quiet for hours,” Arthur said. “Leon was getting worried. What happened?”

“Leon was worried?”

“And Percival. And I’m sure if Gwaine had been here, he would have been charging the dragon trying to figure out what had happened to you.”

“I’m sure,” Merlin said, trying to keep a straight face and keep to his feet. 

He felt utterly exhausted, everything finally catching up to him. His magic was still there, singing to him, but his body was worn, so very worn.

“We’re going to rest here and ride back to Camelot at first light,” Arthur said. “Come on, it’s obvious you don’t know how to take care of yourself.”

Merlin noticed with some astonishment a camp had been set up in his mental absence.

“Morgana?” he slurred, trying to keep his eyes open.

Aithusa butted at his arm, like a puppy, and Merlin kept his arm in contact with the dragon at all times.

“We burned her body,” Arthur said tightly and then led Merlin to a small tent, seeming to accept Aithusa would follow. “Now rest. We all have questions, but a half dead sorcerer is no good to me.”

“Is any kind of sorcerer good to you?” Merlin asked, falling onto the cot inside the tent, Aithusa curling up beside him.

“You are good,” Arthur’s voice said above him. “We’ll talk about the rest later.”

***

Merlin blinked his eyes open, confused by the heavy weight on his chest. He looked down; it was Aithusa’s head, coiled against his side. Merlin could feel a connection between them and it amazed him that he wasn’t more upset. Aithusa had, sort of, been the cause of Kilgharrah’s death, but then, Merlin had absolutely no right to throw stones at anyone with the things he’d done. He smiled gently down at the sleeping dragon, sending peaceful thoughts through their mental connection. Aithusa would have time enough to grow up, feeling guilty over things he’d done, to realize what was wrong. But to be harsh to him would be like torturing a small child, someone unable to realize its actions were wrong.

Merlin glanced around and was surprised to see Arthur slumped in a chair beside Merlin's cot, eyes closed, his snores rising through the quiet. Merlin closed his eyes and pondered all that had happened. He couldn’t believe that it was over. Morgana was finally dead, Mordred was gone, Arthur knew. It was like everything Merlin had been fighting for had happened. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. His burden was lifted; he had nothing left to tell. Though Merlin supposed he had yet to tell Arthur of his deal with the Sidhe. He should probably mention that, now that he thought of it.

Well, he would. Somehow he wasn’t afraid any longer, no longer worried about Arthur’s reaction. There would likely be a rough transitional period, but he knew Arthur would do the right thing. The long wait was over; the Golden Age of Albion was begun. Merlin could die with joy. Of course, it wouldn’t be that easy, it never was, but Merlin wanted his moment of triumph and he was going to take it.

Arthur stirred not long later and jumped when he saw Merlin watching him.

“Merlin! What do you think you’re doing?”

“Resting on the field of victory, being plagued by your snoring?” Merlin suggested.

“The sounds of heaven compared to your prattle, I’m sure,” Arthur grumbled, rubbing his eyes and sitting up. “Are you all right?”

“Fine, Sire,” Merlin said. “Thanks…for sitting with me?”

Arthur looked uncomfortable.

“You were…rather useful last night. I figured you…needed it.”

“Is it so hard to just say you’re welcome?” Merlin asked.

“To insufficiently servile servants, yes,” Arthur said.

“Careful or I’ll set my dragon on you,” Merlin teased cautiously.

To his surprise, Arthur didn’t bat an eye.

“You do and I’ll have you thrown in the stocks,” Arthur rejoined. “I hear the harvest this year has garnered some particularly hard vegetables.”

“That’s your answer for everything, isn’t it? Throw Merlin in the stocks. Your originality knows no bounds.”

“Well, it’s worked remarkably well in the past; I don’t see a reason to stop now.”

“I’m going to get…girly with you,” Merlin said and grinned to see the look of consternation on Arthur’s face. “It won’t last long, I promise, but now that it’s over, I just have to know…are we all right?”

“We’re fine, you emotional leech,” Arthur said, glaring at him. “Merlin, I meant what I said, I am grateful for everything you’ve done. And I understand now just how much you’ve done for me. I can see that your magic is…well, it’s very useful actually, and rather spectacular if one can forget it’s you doing it. I think- I don’t think people who are like you should be persecuted.”

“Does that mean you’ll revoke the ban on magic?” Merlin asked hopefully.

Arthur shook his head causing Merlin’s hopes to plummet for one sickening moment.

“Yes.”

“You prat,” Merlin said.

Arthur smiled smugly.

“Serves you right.”

“I suppose I had that coming,” Merlin said. “So, you’ll really do it?”

“Oh, yes, you wilting numbskull, I will. I need to. It will probably be a very hard thing to do, getting everyone to agree, but that is what I’m going to do. Satisfied?”

“Arthur,” Merlin said simply, “I’m whole again.”

Arthur rolled his eyes, but he looked pleased.

“Now, there are a few things I need to know,” Arthur said, putting his Kingly voice on.

“Yes?”

“Are we going to have sorcerers coming out of the woodwork all over Camelot, making me look generally foolish, and/or trying to kill me and destroy the kingdom?”

“Probably,” Merlin said, “how should I know?”

“Aren’t you in knee deep with the secret magical community or something like that?”

“Since I’ve made my loyalties fairly obvious,” Merlin said, “I never really got an invitation if such a community exists. The Druids are all afraid of me, the evil ones think I’ve betrayed magic, and the few good sorcerers I’ve met generally either die helping me or go far away to get away from Camelot. That reminds me, I’ll have to contact Gilli.”

“Who’s Gill- never mind, wait, that little man who won the- never mind again.”

“Make up your mind, my lord,” Merlin said.

Arthur twitched like he wanted to throw something, but the only thing he had to throw was his sword, and Merlin had probably never made him that mad. Probably.

“I was going to say something generous about you, but I don’t think I will now.”

“The more you praise me the more likely I am to tell you all sorts of things,” Merlin tempted.

“You’re supposed to tell me those things anyway,” Arthur said. “No more secrets, remember? I am your King.”

“A perfectly lovely King,” Merlin agreed. “And you’re right, no more secrets. But…I seem to remember you apologizing for treating me poorly and I’m not sure you’re off to a good start in changing.”

“You’re never ever getting a day off for the rest of your life,” Arthur said. “But, I did want to say that…Merlin, you’ve given up a lot. You could have been something very big in magic, but you chose to remain hidden. For me.”

“I’m already something big in magic, thank you very much,” Merlin said. “And, yes, I did. But I’ve already told you I don’t regret that. Now it’s all over. We’re free of all that.”

“We are,” Arthur said, standing up, sounding much more important than he probably needed to. “And I’d like to inform you that I no longer require your services as a servant.”

“You’re sacking me again?” Merlin asked, surprised and saddened, “come on, no one knows your armor the way I do; I promise I’ll stop pinching food from your breakfast.”

“You did wh- Merlin, the reason I no longer want you as a servant is because I need you elsewhere. Someone who knows about magic needs to advise me in such things. Besides, I think long ago, they had things like court…sorcerers. A good title, don’t you think?”

“A promotion?” Merlin questioned, just to be sure, because such a thought had never occurred to him before, no matter if Arthur knew his secret or not.

Sometimes he’d thought his true destiny was boot polishing.

“Yes, Merlin,” Arthur said, looking pained that Merlin was making him say it. “I think it’s fairly obvious you’re not really a servant anyway. Guinevere mentioned, well, she said she thought you didn’t really fit there now that I knew and I agree.”

Merlin felt bad immediately thinking about Gwen.

“She hates me now,” he said. “No wonder she doesn’t want me around you so much.”

“Merlin, I sincerely doubt she hates you, nor will you have any more free time just because you aren’t my servant. Your duties will be immense, I assure you.”

Merlin perked up at the thought.

“You really don’t think she hates me?”

Arthur shifted uncomfortably.

“I know she is not happy with you, but remember, neither wa- am I.”

“You’ve forgiven me,” Merlin said in shock at Arthur’s slip.

“I have not,” Arthur said in outrage. “What you did was unforgiveable; I’m not likely to just forget about it.”

“You have, you have,” Merlin said mockingly. “You’ve forgiven me.”

“I can still take it back,” Arthur said grudgingly.

“Or you could give me a hug?” Merlin suggested.

Arthur rose calmly, walked purposefully forward, and cuffed Merlin soundly on the head. Aithusa woke when Merlin yelled loudly and looked for a second like he was going to roast Arthur alive before Merlin quickly reassured him.

“That is cheating,” Arthur said soundly, barely reacting at all.

Merlin had to hand it to him, Arthur was handling this splendidly.

“It’s not my fault,” Merlin protested. “He’s my responsibility.”

“What’s being a Dragonlord like?” Arthur asked curiously.

“Very odd,” Merlin said, looking far off. “My father told me that a dragon’s soul and mine were brothers. I guess it’s like that. A dragon cannot refuse a Dragonlord and it’s our responsibility to not abuse that power. To teach, to mediate. But in a way it’s like never being alone. Deep inside me is the bond I share with Aithusa and it will never go away, not even if he does, because I still feel Kilgharrah with me. I’ve always thought it was, in a way, well, like my father never died. Like there’s a part of him speaking to me.”

“I’m sorry you didn’t know him long,” Arthur said after a short pause.

“Me too,” Merlin said sadly, but without grief. There had been enough of that lately. “I did see him again actually.”

“Did you use the horn?” Arthur asked sharply. “Because I can tell you from experience that is not the way to go about seeing your dead relatives.”

“No,” Merlin said, rolling his eyes. “I-I, well, when I didn’t go to Camlann with you-"

“I wanted to know about that actually,” Arthur interrupted. “Why did you leave?”

“Morgana had stolen my magic,” Merlin said, shrugging. “I wasn’t any good to you without it, so I had to get it back. I went to the Valley of the Fallen Kings, to the Crystal Cave, to where magic began. Morgana was waiting for me, that’s how I found out about Eira, and she trapped me inside. But that's when I saw my father, he told me…he told me I was magic itself. I found myself in there, the magic of Emrys, it was…well, I used the crystals, saw what Morgana was planning on, and warned you about the path.”

“I was so sure I’d heard you,” Arthur said. “Guinevere thought I was crazy.”

“Well, you are that,” Merlin said, grinning, “but I did send you that message. Then I came as fast as I could. But I had seen him one more time.”

There was a slightly awkward silence where Merlin simply remembered and Arthur let him.

“So what will become of Aithusa?” Arthur asked.

Which was shocking, Arthur asking something instead of commanding.

“Uh, well, he’s mine,” Merlin said. “I have to take care of him, he’s only a baby, Arthur, he didn’t know what he was doing. Morgana bonded with him, was kind to him, he just thought that’s the way life was. And he…well, awful things happened to the two of them together. I need to bring him back to Camelot…?”

Arthur winced.

“Merlin, I don’t know if that’s a good idea. Magic is one thing, but the people remember Kilgharrah’s attack all too well, and with what Aithusa’s been doing lately…”

“Then I can’t come back,” Merlin said.

“Now hang on,” Arthur protested, but Merlin was firm on this.

“No, Arthur, I can’t. He’s too little to be on his own like Kilgharrah and who knows what will happen to him. It’s my fault he did those things to begin with; I should’ve looked after him better. I can’t fail him again.”

“There are others you’ve made promises to,” Arthur said, sounding put out.

“I can come and visit,” Merlin said, “and I can advise you. And I’ll protect you.”

“Merlin, slow down,” Arthur said. “I didn’t mean…we’ll work something out. I don’t suppose Aithusa has shrinking powers or anything?”

“Well,” Merlin said, thinking and searching within himself. “Invisibility’s definitely an option, yes, I can do that.”

“We’ll work with it.”

“Good,” Merlin said, because he didn’t want to leave Camelot. 

It was his home and almost everyone he loved was there.

“I think we’d better warn the men,” Arthur said, “and only tell a few people he’s in Camelot. Could we make a…home for him?”

“Aithusa,” Merlin said, “this is King Arthur. He wants to make a home for you in Camelot. I need you there with me. What do you say?”

Aithusa answered in the affirmative within Merlin’s mind.

“The other dragon could talk,” Arthur said, “is Aithusa too young?”

“Something else that happened to him,” Merlin said. “I’m hoping I can fix it somehow, but for now I can talk to him as a Dragonlord or in the mind. He can answer me there. He understands you. But, yes, he is very young.”

“Your world is vast and complicated,” Arthur said, inclining his head to Aithusa, who seemed to like it, though he shrunk back against Merlin.

Merlin wasn’t sure how this was going to work out, but he was glad to try.

Leon poked his head in the tent.

“We’re ready to go, my lord,” he said. “Merlin, are you feeling better?”

“Well, thank you,” Merlin said.

“Enough lazing about, Merlin,” Arthur said. “Some of us would like to go home if you don’t mind.”

“I’m not going to miss waking you up in the morning,” Merlin said.

***

They were on their way, Aithusa lazily circling overhead, sending pictures of everything he saw into Merlin’s head; it was distracting.

Arthur rode beside him. They’d lost about a third of their horses and five men. So only a few were riding, most of the horses dragging litters and wounded. It was a slow ride and Merlin had actually spent the morning healing all the more serious injuries before they started to return. At this rate they wouldn’t reach Camelot before nightfall.

Merlin was trying to figure out how to broach the subject of Avalon with Arthur. He really didn’t want to keep it from him, desperate to avoid even the appearance of lying, but how did one mention the fact that you’ve pretty much made the other person’s funeral arrangements without their consent? Luckily, Arthur started speaking first.

“Merlin, when Kilgharrah died, he said…well, he was talking about me. What did he mean; I would rise again at Albion’s greatest need?”

“Uh, not sure,” Merlin said, and then held his hand up at Arthur’s look of incredulity. “No, really, I’m not sure. I know you’re destined to be Albion’s greatest King, but I’ve heard you called the Once and Future King several times now. I think that means that somehow, when you die, you won’t really die, but you’ll be needed again, sometime in the future, to help this land. Whatever that means.”

Arthur looked confused. 

“I don’t know how you deal with these prophecies and such things; they sound exhausting and ridiculously vague.”

“Welcome to my world,” Merlin said, flinging his arm out. “It’s terribly thrilling and ever so tiring.”

“Well, mine’s not exactly a holiday,” Arthur argued.

“No, but they’re sort of intertwined,” Merlin said apologetically. “Kilgharrah once told me we were two halves of the same coin. An interesting illustration, I must say.”

“Obviously I’m the brighter half,” Arthur said cheerfully.

“Funny, I said the same thing about me when he told me,” Merlin said.

“Why? That’s ridiculous.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Merlin retorted. “Now, Arthur, about prophecies and stuff.”

“What?” Arthur asked in a voice of foreboding.

“When I saved you at Avalon, I had to ask the permission of the Sidhe. It’s their island, you see, and I could only do the magic there. They agreed, but they had a condition.”

“And what was that?” Arthur asked curtly.

“When you die…when you actually die, I promised to send you to Avalon,” Merlin finished in a rush.

“What?” Arthur asked again, like that was the only word he knew.

“I’m sorry, but it was the only way to save you, you were dying,” Merlin said hurriedly. “And you’ll be dead, it’s not like you’ll notice or anything. And, now, thinking about what Kilgharrah said, I think it’s supposed to be this way. You have to go somewhere to wait for when Albion needs you again. Once and Future King…”

“You absolutely infuriating idiot,” Arthur said, sighing. “Thanks for asking.”

“You. Were. Dying,” Merlin reiterated. “I’d like to see you react under that kind of pressure.”

“I don’t doubt you, Merlin,” Arthur said. “But you’re telling Guinevere about it. Also, once we get things squared away at home, I’d like to have a little chat with the Sidhe myself.”

“They do seem to like you a lot,” Merlin said. “After all, once they tried to kill you as a sacrifice and then there was the whole ‘Elena was really a Changeling they wanted to marry you’ thing.”

Arthur’s mouth dropped open in a most unseemly fashion.

“Come again?”


	14. You Can Be King Again

Arthur felt strange now that the battle was over. He always put so much energy and time into planning for them that it was almost a feeling of loss when a battle was done, like he was bereft of purpose. Yet, somehow, he thought he’d never really be so, with the dragon’s words looming over him and Merlin’s strange remarks. He’d have to deal with these things for quite a long time, it seemed.

Merlin was still doing his weird trance thing with the dragon and so Arthur spent his time setting up the camp, sending riders back to Camelot, and gathering the bodies. The Saxons all burned together, but Arthur reserved for himself the task of picking up Morgana’s limp body and placing it on a makeshift pyre. He set the torch and spent a long time just watching her, feeling the heat of the flames on his face, trying to recall everything about their childhood, everything good about his sister. 

When the flames finally died down, he whispered his goodbyes and turned, surprised to find Leon and Percival standing behind him.

“Did something happen?” he asked, wiping surreptitiously at his eyes.

“We just wanted…” Leon said, trailing off.

“To be here,” Percival finished.

Arthur nodded.

“Thank you,” he said simply. “You are both loyal friends.” He spoke on, not wanting to dwell on the moment. “What’s the state of the men?”

“Five dead, Sire,” Leon said. “There are more injuries, but it’s hard to tell without a physician or-or a…”

“Sorcerer?” Arthur finished.

“Or Merlin,” Leon said.

Arthur raised his eyebrow, but didn't address it. 

“How is Merlin?” he asked instead.

“Still with the dragon.”

Arthur walked over and found that Merlin was starting to move and caught him when it looked like he was going to fall. The man looked completely done in and Arthur moved quickly to get him to bed, realizing Merlin needed rest before he could do anything else.

Merlin kept making inane comments, but he quickly dropped off once on the cot. The dragon curled up beside him and seemed to sleep too. Arthur would have to get used to that, because it was just too weird and potentially life threatening to have a dragon acting like a loyal hound.

Arthur made sure the camp was secure and sentries posted before he returned to Merlin’s tent. He had his own, but he found himself in need of making sure Merlin was okay. There was a chair beside Merlin's cot and Arthur dropped down into it, keeping watch through the night. Though he was tired he needed to think.

It was finally catching up to him that there wasn’t anything else lurking beyond the horizon, causing him to push back making a decision about Merlin. Morgana was gone, the dragon acting like a pet, his men were taken care of for the most part, Arthur himself was alive, King of the most peaceful kingdom he’d ever heard of.

Which meant there was nothing to do but think about Merlin. The battle had made up Arthur’s mind about Merlin completely, the kind of clarity that comes before death, helping him to see the other man for who he was. And Arthur saw what magic could do, what weight it had in men’s lives. Surely Arthur could not afford to ignore such power, or make an enemy of it. He still had left over feelings of uneasiness, a lifetime of thinking to overcome, but Arthur would keep his promise to the Druids, to Dragoon the Great, and to the Dolma, even if the last two were really to Merlin. He would reconsider his views, he would revoke his laws, he would make peace not just with Kings and armies, but with sorcerers and magic itself. It was the only thing to do really.

Arthur was fully okay with allowing magic to reign free again. So many times he’d teetered on this cliff, and all it had taken in the end was the loyalty of one servant to send him over the edge. But Arthur felt confident that there would be no broken fall at the bottom. Magic could be used to do horrible things as no one knew better than Arthur, but he also felt that, in treating it as an enemy, that had made it so for his father. Instead of retreating from the thing that had hurt him, Arthur planned to understand it, to wield it, to keep it controlled through kindness rather than fear. 

And as Arthur thought, he felt at peace, and he decided several more things before his own exhaustion caught up to him and he fell victim to a much needed slumber.

***

Arthur had never been so glad to see Camelot. He always felt the same every time he came back, but this time he truly meant it. 

It had been a good morning, despite Merlin’s mocking comments, and Arthur felt glad about the closure they’d come to regarding Merlin’s secret and status. Arthur couldn’t live the way he had been any longer, holding onto grudges and pride, it was too tiring. And Arthur knew Merlin had to be glad to now be able to live as he really was. Together, well, together, Arthur thought there wasn’t anything they could not do. It felt right, somehow, to finally speak words of affirmation and acknowledge Merlin’s superiority. So long as Arthur didn’t have to do it too often, that is.

Though Merlin still had surprises for Arthur, such as his little promise to the Sidhe about letting Arthur come to their island when he died. It had taken him awhile to get used to the idea and he still wanted to talk to them himself before he became fully reconciled to it, but he had no energy left to hold it against Merlin. Merlin, who had saved everything, and whose pet dragon appeared to take it badly whenever anyone threatened him.

Arthur was not sure how that was going to work, but he had to try. The dragon was small, sickly looking, and maybe could turn invisible? So Arthur thought he’d make a place for him in the hills right outside of Camelot and that way Merlin could keep an eye on him and still be where Arthur needed him, at his side.

So now, Arthur could enter Camelot with a clear conscience and a full heart.

Guinevere met them outside and all it took was one look at her face before he felt at home.

“You did it,” he whispered to her, holding her tightly.

“Did what?” she asked.

“Kept your promise,” he said.

“As did you,” she said, kissing him lightly, but he could sense the restrained joy hidden beneath her calm demeanor.

“I shall look forward to discussing it with you in detail,” he said.

“And I you,” she said, before looking past him to where Merlin was hovering uncertainly. “Thank you, Merlin,” she said, sincerity in her voice, “for bringing him home.”

“How do you know I didn’t bring him home?” Arthur asked indignantly.

Guinevere laughed and kissed him again before going to Merlin and hugging him tightly.

“Thank you, my dearest friend,” she said.

Merlin’s face lit up like somebody had just given him a kingdom wrapped up in a bow and he hugged her back.

“As you are mine,” he said.

“Excuse me?” Arthur asked. “Did I just become redundant?”

They turned and laughed at him and he felt very put out. Exactly what right did his wife and his best friend have to act like that? Especially when he was King and they were no longer fellow servants.

Merlin was unrepentant, but Guinevere relented and came over to Arthur, wrapping her arm around his waist like she never wanted to let go. And he didn’t want her to.

Gaius stepped up then, folding Merlin into a hug.

“My boy, I’m very proud of you.”

“Thank you, Gaius. I’m sure something’s wrong because everybody keeps telling me that.”

“Don’t worry, Merlin,” Arthur said. “I’ve no intention of letting you get a puffed up head.”

“No, it wouldn’t do when yours is already so big,” Merlin answered.

Gaius chuckled while Arthur simply swatted at Merlin who jumped behind Guinevere.

“I see you have much to relate,” Guinevere said.

“Indeed we do,” Arthur agreed. “We shall tell you all, but I’d like to get cleaned up first. Tell me, do you know any capable servants who aren’t named George?”

“Arthur?” she questioned, glancing at Merlin quickly.

“Well, Merlin’s decided he’s got to flaunt his magic around all the time, being called court sorcerer and everything, so I need a new one.”

“Really?” she said. “That’s wonderful.”

“I guess I’ll need a new apprentice,” Gaius said, practically beaming with pride so it made Arthur sick to look at him.

So much sentimentality flowing everywhere around him. All for Merlin, of all people.

“And I suppose,” Arthur said, “that Merlin will be wanting new quarters too, expecting some kind of recompense for his duties.”

“I want to stay with Gaius,” Merlin said, pouting like Arthur had just tried to take away his favorite toy.

“Merlin, once I get a new assistant, I’ll need that room,” Gaius said, winking at Arthur. “Stay with me till then. I daresay I could use a few more days of your help before you start your new job.”

Merlin sighed and acquiesced.

“Everything’s changing,” he said mournfully.

“That happens when you decide to be a sorcerer,” Arthur said, as if it was a whim Merlin had woken up with that morning.

Merlin made a face at him and then further conversation was cut off by Gwaine’s enthusiastic joining of their company and the rest of the knights and the need to get the injured men looked after and the supplies put away and the horses fed and all the other boring and tedious parts of returning from a journey that Arthur was very glad he didn’t have to do.

***

Arthur held what could be called a gathering that night, to relate the story of the battle to all those closest to him and to get their input on his decision about the law against magic. It consisted of himself, Guinevere, Merlin, Gaius, Leon, Gwaine, and Percival. The council could wait; indeed, they just seemed pleased that he was back and they wouldn’t have to deal with Guinevere as much, who’d apparently put them in their place so well that they were terrified of her.

Well, that’s not the story Guinevere told, but Arthur could see that there was new respect in their voices when they spoke of her. They definitely weren’t happy about their Queen, no, they didn’t like her or the idea of her at all, but they grudgingly respected her now. And that was something Arthur could work with. He shouldn’t have to leave Camelot for quite some time and he’d be able to rectify the mistakes he’d made when Guinevere first became Queen, by not establishing her as well as he could have.

Food and drink abounded in Arthur’s and Guinevere's chambers and they were there well into the night.

Gwaine told exaggerated stories of how he’d defended Camelot in their absence. Merlin was ridiculously modest when he described his victory over Morgana. Aithusa was introduced to everyone in the room and Arthur was relieved to see that Merlin hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d said he could make Aithusa invisible, and it was rather funny watching Gwaine jump when the dragon had simply materialized in the room with them. That secret would not go beyond the room for now, the rest of the knights believing Aithusa to have left.

Once the story of the battle had been told and retold from everyone’s perspective, Arthur proposed a toast.

“To Camelot and to our victory,” he said, holding aloft his goblet. “Peace has been brought at last. We have treaties and alliances with all our neighbors. The Five Kingdoms are united again. Today the start of the final alliance has been made, with the magic users of our land, and there will be much good that will come of that, I hope. But, we owe our victory today to one man. So, it is with regret I have to offer a toast to Merlin as well.” There were rumbles of agreement as everyone held their own cups out. “To Merlin, the noblest warlock and Dragonlord in Camelot, whom I will no longer call servant, but I will call friend.”

Merlin blushed brighter than any woman Arthur had ever met, but everyone else clinked their goblets together and drank deep.

“I think a speech is in order,” Gwaine said, banging on the table.

Merlin shook his head vehemently but everyone began to join Gwaine’s cry for a speech and Arthur simply chuckled and gestured for Merlin to stand up.

“You wanted notoriety, you’ve got it,” he said. “Now get used to it.”

Merlin grumbled something uncomplimentary about Arthur’s personal habits that Arthur wasn’t sure was even physically possible and got up.

“Uh, thanks?” Merlin said. “I couldn’t have done it without all of you helping me all these years, so I appreciate it. And, just so you all know, nothing’s changed. I’m still…me.”

“That’s all too obvious,” Gwaine said, shaking his head. “Poor speech, Merlin, but don’t worry, I’ll make sure it happens again.”

“I can turn you into various animals you won’t like being,” Merlin warned him.

“Worth it,” Gwaine said. “Now, what’s a feast without a proper tale? I want some magic stories. Tell us about all the times you saved the day while Arthur was lying on the ground, sleeping like a baby.”

“Watch it, Sir Gwaine,” Arthur said haughtily. “I still do have control over this kingdom.”

Gwaine didn’t look very chastened, but the general clamor for Merlin’s stories overrode any further chastisement Arthur could have given.

And, really, he didn’t need to. He was just glad to have this time with everyone.

“Well,” Merlin said, sending an apologetic look to Gaius, “I think everyone knows about Gaius being possessed by a goblin, but what they don’t know is…”

And that’s the way it went. Merlin told many stories that night. Arthur laughed until he cried with some of the things he found out. About Gaius as a goblin, about the Lady Catrina as a troll, about Arthur’s supposed quest to the Fisher King that turned out to be Merlin’s quest, about the love spell that made Arthur fall for Vivienne, about Merlin spelling himself to be able to juggle for Queen Annis, about bewitching the Witchfinder, about Merlin transforming himself into both an old man and an old woman, and so many other things Arthur couldn’t have imagined were true.

“You ungrateful wretch,” Arthur said, outraged. “You mean you could’ve made the…donkey business vanish immediately and didn’t?”

Merlin did not look apologetic in the slightest and Arthur reconsidered his decision not to execute the little idiot for one second before settling into his chair grumpily and listening to everyone laugh at his expense. But it was Arthur's turn to laugh again only moments later for someone else’s magical misfortune and his good mood was not wholly dissipated.

There were harder stories told as well, nothing quite so harsh and terrible as the things Merlin had told Arthur and Guinevere, but things like letting his friend Will take the blame/credit for saving them all at Ealdor, having Lancelot take his place in the veil, watching his friends be accused for Merlin’s own sorcery time and again. But regardless, it felt healing to have Merlin keep revealing more and more of himself, more and more of what he’d been through and what he’d done. Arthur knew it would build a stronger foundation of trust between all in the room.

Arthur’s favorite story was Merlin’s tale of how Arthur’s sword had been forged, in the dragon’s breath, wielded by his father, lain at the bottom of a lake, returned by some woman (and Arthur was definitely going to get to the bottom of that story) and stuck in a stone where Arthur himself pulled it free. It was a little galling to find out that Merlin had been padding that story to help Arthur believe in himself again and for the people to gain confidence in him, but after everything that had happened, Arthur had no more room for self-doubt. The sword was the greatest gift he’d ever received apart from Guinevere’s love and it felt like a friend in his hand. So he could forgive Merlin such little stories.

The night eventually wound down though Arthur found himself never wanting it to end. Gaius begged off first, saying he was too old for staying up all night. The knights left next, responsible Leon going first saying something about patrols and schedules, followed by Percival practically dragging a very drunk Gwaine off. Gwaine’s calls asking for Merlin’s help to turn the ‘giant oaf’ into a toad faded into the distance and then Merlin was left and he automatically started clearing the table.

Arthur raised his eyebrows at him.

“Oh, oh, right,” Merlin said. “This is going to take some getting used to. Maybe I should just keep doing it for awhile, wean myself off?”

“That’s the single most depressing thing anyone’s ever said,” Arthur replied. “Merlin, for once in your life, just relax.”

“That’s really rich coming from you,” Merlin told him, but he stopped. 

“It’s hard,” Guinevere said, coming over to him, a hand on his shoulder. “It took me years before I stopped trying to clean things or could let other people do the things I knew how to do. Even now I find it hard to just stand by and not at least help.”

“If it makes you feel better, Merlin,” Arthur said, “I’ll always treat you as inferior.”

“That actually creates a level of comfort, thanks,” Merlin said, the look on his face saying it all.

Arthur rolled his eyes and bumped shoulders with him. 

“Now, out. I want some time with my Queen.”

“Yes, Sire,” Merlin said hastily, before he stopped and turned to Guinevere, taking her hands. “Gwen, thank you. I am so sorry about everything, but I promise that you’ll never need to doubt me again.”

“We will have years to talk, Merlin,” she said. “I promise you that.”

He smiled and then turned to leave.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Arthur asked pointedly looking at the purring dragon stretched out in front of his fireplace.

“Oh, right!”

Merlin drawled something in the dragon tongue and Aithusa got up and stretched and Merlin’s eyes flashed and the dragon disappeared from sight.

“Be careful, Merlin,” Guinevere said. 

“Always am,” he said. “So that ban on magic, lifted immediately, is it?”

“For you. I still need to draw up the paperwork. We’ll have to discuss the exact logistics of it, the ethics of it, the practicality of it. Meet with the Druid leaders. That’s what you’re here for,” Arthur said.

“Right…” Merlin said, “just checking.”

A flash lit up the room and it was clean, as if there had never been seven people and a dragon making a mess the whole evening.

“Merlin!” Arthur bellowed.

“What? It’s clean now and Sarah won’t have to do it.”

Arthur sighed.

“Ten years of nary a hint of sorcery and now you can’t be discrete to save your life.”

“Thank you, Merlin,” Guinevere said, giving Arthur a look.

But the whole thing had started Arthur thinking again. He wasn’t reverting back to insecurity about his own abilities, but his sense of fairness demanded an answer to one question.

“Merlin, there is one thing I want to make clear.”

“Yes?” he asked, smiling innocently.

“How many times did you interfere with magic when I was fighting?”

“Uh, I lost count after a hundred or so,” Merlin said, looking puzzled, “why?”

“Could you, if you would be so kind, please not do that? I would like to know I can do some things for myself. The people should probably be assured their King can actually win duels of honor fairly.”

“I only ever did it when the other side cheated first,” Merlin protested. “Like when there was an assassin jousting with you or Morgana made your sword too heavy. I didn’t interfere with Morgause.”

Which was the wrong thing to say and Arthur made sure his face showed it and Merlin scrambled for the door.

“Night, Merlin,” Guinevere called out serenely.

“Night, Gwen,” Merlin chirped out, obviously not perturbed in the slightest.

Arthur got one good whack in before Merlin made it out and then decided it wasn’t worth it, particularly when Aithusa growled from out of nowhere. Arthur really needed to be alone with Guinevere anyway.

She was already turning down their bed when he came back in.

“You really should treat him better,” Guinevere said.

“Come now, he wouldn’t know what to do if I did. Besides, I’ve been forced against my will to say many nice things about him since I found out his secret. It’s been very disconcerting for me.”

“I’m sure it has,” she said, her voice insincere.

“Guinevere,” he said wheedling.

She turned her back to him.

“Help me?” she asked simply and then he was pressed up against her back.

“What can I do?” he asked, kissing her neck.

“I could call for Sarah, but it is rather late and I thought you might enjoy getting me out of this dress,” she said.

“You know me very well,” he said, doing exactly that.

Soon she was bare before him and he led her to their bed, divesting himself of his own clothes.

“Arthur,” she said, putting one hand on his chest, “I spoke with Gaius while you were away.”

“Is it really necessary to talk about that now?” he asked, pouting.

“Indulge me,” she said, pushing him against the pillows and sitting in front of him.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “I know you were upset before I left. Is it the council? I have to tell you how impressed I am about the things they’re saying about you. And I promise I will make sure they never have power over you.”

“I’m much better,” she said. “It’s not that. I feel much more confident, but, Arthur, I was very upset when you left. I was still reeling from Merlin’s secrets and worrying about you and I felt overwhelmed to be in control of this kingdom. I know we spoke about this before, but it seemed too much at the time.”

He leaned forward, capturing her hands.

“What can I do to ease your mind?”

“You are doing it by living,” she said. “It was something I had to come to terms with on my own and your absence allowed for that. I must admit that the thing I was most worried about was my lack of…us not having an heir.”

“Do I make you feel inadequate? Does the council? Because they can all easily be removed to very distant parts of the kingdom.”

She smiled.

“I will hold my own there. But, yes, they did make me feel like I wasn’t worthy. Then…I spoke with Gaius, and he told me of your birth. Do you- did Merlin tell you?”

“I know what Morgause said was true,” he admitted, his voice shaky. “I know I was born of magic.”

“I questioned whether a magical solution might be in order and Gaius told me of the terrible price,” she said. “But then he examined me and he thinks he found a solution. Imagine, Arthur, my not bearing a child might be a physical problem with a solution. He said he would have Merlin confirm his diagnosis through magic, but, I think, Arthur, I think we could have children and then we need never worry about the future of our kingdom.”

“I wasn’t worried anyway,” he said, but he knew his eyes were shining with joy, because the thought of becoming a father, well, he hadn’t had time to really think and worry over it as she had, but it was something he had longed for. Very much. “But that’s wonderful news.”

“Yes, it is,” she said. “I want a baby, Arthur, someone who is a piece of the both of us, a physical representation of our love.”

“That sounds nice,” he admitted, placing a hand on her stomach, happily visualizing it swelled with his child. “Well, I suggest we practice very hard so we’re ready when the time comes.”

“I was hoping you would think that way,” she said, brushing her lips to his.

He responded in kind, pulling her closer, breathing harder when she fit alongside him, her body seeming made to curve into his.

His hands roamed across her back, wanting to touch every inch of her, to know her more fully than he ever had before. He was a complete man now that he was back with her.

He had everything he’d ever wanted or needed. He was King of a prosperous kingdom, alliances and treaties made with his neighboring kingdoms. He was surrounded by friends and protectors, those he could trust with his life. He would wash away all the old fears and prejudices and intolerance in his kingdom, ruling as best as he could with the tools he was given. Perhaps one day he would be a father and he hoped to be the best father a son could have. Things were finally right and equal between him and Merlin. Arthur did not have to wonder any longer about Morgana or about upheaval to his people.

Mostly though, mostly he had Guinevere, here in his arms, in his bed, in his life, in his heart. They moved together through the night and she utterly consumed him, the purely physical pleasure not even matched by the unconditional love he felt from her and strove to reflect back. If this is what it was to love, then all the pain before had been worth it. They were finally together, at rest, and Arthur wouldn’t have it any other way.


	15. You're In Control

Merlin left Arthur’s room in a rush, grinning the whole way like a madman. It felt right to be running from Arthur’s wrath at the reminder a woman had on a time beaten him in fair combat.

Once a fair ways distant Merlin slowed to a walk and then to a halt, leaning against the wall, feeling Aithusa’s invisible head butting up against him. He absentmindedly rubbed the dragon’s not yet fully scaly head.

So much had altered in so short a time, it was hard to believe. Merlin had felt stretched for years, urged to do the impossible, trying to fix everything and feeling hopeless when he failed. But now…it was different. With Arthur at his side and his magic actually under control, Merlin was finally living in the world he’d always dreamed of, the one he’d been promised years ago. He could finally visit his mother and let her know the fulfillment of all her wishes and dreams for him.

It was incredible, better than a dream, and he knew there was nothing he couldn’t do. He was truly and completely free.

With a blink of his eyes Merlin vanished with Aithusa, reappearing in his room. He peeked out the door to listen to Gaius snore. There was a note on the table. It read:

_Merlin. My home is yours for as long as you need it. -G_

Merlin grinned and pulled the covers up over Gaius more firmly, more grateful to the man than he could ever express. Then he went to his room and settled Aithusa down in the corner before going to the window and pulling back the shutters, glorying in the sight of a Camelot at rest under the moonlight.

It was done and it was beginning.


End file.
